Dreams of Earth and Fire
by munchydino12
Summary: Mako and Bolin's father has gone missing. When an unexpected source reveals the dark secret of the anti-bender movement in Republic City, it appears their father is gone for good. Will the two brothers discover the truth? Pre-'Legend of Korra'
1. Toh Sa Village

A/N: Mako and Bolin are such awesome characters, aren't they? They deserve an awesome back story!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything with the name "Last Airbender" in the title :DDD

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Toh Sa Village<strong>

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><p>The Toh Sa village stood no more than a quarter mile away from the Chin River, so named after the Earth King who was rumored to have floated downstream wrapped in lotus leaves hundreds of years ago. In the days after the Hundred Year War, Earth Kingdom peasants who had hidden in fear of Fire Nation raids, gathered together to form a peaceful agricultural society. Sixty years later, the village still existed, though in a state of noticeable decline; the villagers were suffering from a dreadful drought and there was many a gossip about a city being built where the streets were paved with gold and no one had to cry over spoiled crops. Still, there were those who believed the skies would yield rain again though no one had much conviction.<p>

One spring morning, a family gathered outside the entrance to the small village. A very tall, thin man with amber eyes was carrying a traveling bag and coat. Facing him stood a shorter, stocky woman with kind green eyes holding a tiny baby wrapped in a yellow blanket. Hanging off her knee was a small boy of maybe five wearing pajamas. He had the same green eyes as is mother and was sucking his thumb while gazing up at two teenagers to his left. The two boys were brothers, though they barely looked alike. The older boy took after his father; he was very tall, lean and had his father's nose as well as his black hair and bright eyes. The younger one was much like his mother; kind-faced with a sturdy build and green eyes to match.

"I promise to write every week," the tall man was saying to his wife. "And I'll always be thinking about you and the kids."

His wife sniffed noisily, wiping her eyes with her free hand. The baby stirred slightly in her yellow folds, unaware of her parents' farewells.

"Do be careful, Kenji," she sniffed, managing a small smile. She turned to the boys behind her and nodded. "You should say goodbye to your father, boys."

The two teenagers stepped forward. Then without hesitation, the three of them, father and sons, were embracing. It was a while before they parted. The father looked intently at his sons while they stared back as though afraid they'd forget his face.

"I'm counting on you two to help your mother run things while I'm away," Kenji said, one hand on each boy's shoulder. "Especially you, Mako," he nodded to the taller boy. "you're the man of the house now."

"I won't let you down, Dad," Mako said, smiling.

Kenji turned to his other son who seemed to be holding in tears with great difficultly. "You too, Bolin. Take care of your younger siblings."

"Okay I guess we'll see you soon."

Kenji hugged Bolin again. This time, Bolin did cry, trying to surreptitiously wipe his face on his sleeve. They broke apart and it was time for the little ones. Kenji hugged his youngest son, Mireu, who was too young to know what was going on. He took his father's face in his tiny hands and stared curiously into his amber eyes. Kenji stared back into the small boy's identical yellow ones and wondered vaguely when he'd see them again. Then he held his sleeping infant daughter, Min, kissing her gently on the head. He pecked his wife on the cheek one last time and was off, trotting down the road to Chin River where a boat would be waiting.

The family, already missing Kenji, stood at the entrance in silence for some time. Then, one by one, they trotted back to their house as the morning sun mocked them with its radiance.

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><p><em>Two Years Later<em>

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><p>Not much had changed in the small village since Kenji's departure. The streets were still lined with empty, woebegone houses in disrepair, the residents having left for bigger cities years previously. The residents who still remained were struggling to produce anything in the murderous drought. Rainfall was extremely scarce and many feared that this year would be its worst.<p>

In a field filled with rows and rows of wilting soybeans plants, Bolin stood overlooking the miserable affair wearing brown trousers rolled up to his knees, a patched shirt, and a frayed straw hat. He was barefoot with dried mud splattered all the way up to his knees, the soles of his feet caked with dirt. An empty watering can lay abandoned a few steps away.

He had been standing there for quite some time, trying in vain to make the soil underfoot more fertile. But it was hopeless; even with his earthbending he could tell the ground was too dry. Bolin had half-thought, half-prayed that the soybeans would endure. After all, soybean plants thrived in summer heat and could tolerate poor soil. Apparently, even soybeans had their standards.

He sighed, crouching low to inspect the earth. The lack of rainfall was driving him crazy. He sifted some of the dry dirt through his fingers, frustration pumping through his nervous system. In a moment of self-delusion, he imagined the earth being sucked into a black hole underground. He closed his eyes for a moment, head bowed.

'Why don't you just suck me right up already,' Bolin thought staring into the earth between his feet. 'Just end this right now-'

Bolin started in shock, lost balance and landed on his rear. The ground in front of him was suddenly darker, more shadowy. It couldn't be"

"What are you doing?"

Bolin turned to see his older brother Mako towering over him. In fact, he was so tall that he was casting a shadow over Bolin. Not just a regular head-shaped shadow but a slightly blurry mysterious one that moments ago had had Bolin pleading for his life. Bolin felt both relieved and slightly silly.

Mako was dressed down in a faded gray muscle shirt and baggy shorts. Bolin noticed that he wasn't wearing a hat despite the fact that he was visibly sweating, his dark hair sticking to his face. It had been years since Mako had donned so much as a cap; he refused point-blank to wear anything on his head for fear of seeming even taller than he already was. He also claimed to want a tan. Ironically, his skin seemed stubbornly immune to the slightest sunburn. As a result, Mako's face stayed pale all year round, contrasting heavily with Bolin who was brown as a potato peel in murderous glare of sunlight.

Bolin shook his head. "Nah, it's useless. Unless you can waterbend a lake onto these soybeans, they're goners." He stomped his foot and piece of clumpy dirt shot into his outstretched hand. Bolin squeezed it slightly and the clump simply disintegrated into dust. It slipped through his fingers and sprinkled onto his bare feet.

Mako knelt down by one of the soybean plants and plucked a shriveled pod. The dehydrated shells fell apart between his fingers and small, bone-dry beans rolled out onto palms. Mako inspected them with a defeated look on his face.

"I guess it can't be helped," He said, dusting his hands of the brittle remains. "Shame. You and Mom worked so hard on them."

Bolin scoffed. "Tell me about it. I nearly broke my back earthbending all the soil and this is what we get." He gestured at the field of withering soybean, a mass of shriveled brown hanging from dehydrated branches.

Mako didn't say anything. He had watched his mother and brother wrestling with the earth, trying in vain to make something- anything- to grow from the dry, cracked soil. Last year, they had had the fortune of a light shower. It didn't last long, but they had hoped. But then it was straight back to all-around sunshine and things had gone downhill- again. Mako felt guilty for being unable to help. Even for a non-earthbender, his farming skills were an abomination; everything he touched seemed to die twice as fast, something Bolin was always quick to point out.

Bolin looked behind Mako where the depressing sight of dying crops gave way to a dirt field and a little further along, a wooden house. The stone chimney was smoking slightly; it was lunch time.

"C'mon," Bolin said, wiping sweat from his brow and leaving a smear of mud in the process. "Let's go have some lunch."

The brothers both made their way out of the fields, passing their last hopes of a decent winter. Mako found little humor in the irony; it must've been hot enough to fry an egg in this heat and he was already thinking about the cold, the snow, and, inevitably, the hunger.

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><p>Review please? :)<p> 


	2. Letters from Republic City

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than the last one. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys rock :DDD

Disclaimer: I do not own A:TLA or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Letters from Republic City<strong>

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><p>Mako and Bolin entered the house through the backdoor which led into an old-fashioned kitchen. Instead of regular shelves or counters, the ground had been raised in rectangular blocks with earthbending to create workable surfaces and stone stoves that ran around the walls. After years of roof leakages and spilled food, these natural countertops had been eroded so that as time passed, they slowly grew shorter at varying speeds. Every once in a while, the connected surfaces became so uneven that Bolin had to indulge in a little "countertop shaving" where he leveled out the surface- and made them even shorter- with earthbending. Currently, the counter barely came up to Mako's hips which did nothing to improve his terrible culinary skills (yet another trait Bolin found highly amusing).<p>

A large, stone pot was bubbling sluggishly in the stove, a warm fire blazing underneath it. A long pipeline was connected to top of the stove which ran up to the ceiling, spitting out plumes of smoke through the chimney. As with everything else in the house, the pipeline was severely worn down and Mako wondered vaguely how soon he'd have to patch yet another leak.

"Finally decided to show up, boys?" A plump middle-aged woman walked in through the inner door, wiping her grimy hands on her slightly-less grimy apron. Her graying hair was swept up in a tight bun and sweat plastered stray strands across her forehead like inked in rivers on a map.

"What's for lunch, Mom? I'm starving," Bolin said, rubbing his stomach as his mother started taking out bowls and cutlery from a wooden box on the counter.

"Potato stew and some vegetables I managed to pick up at the market today," his mother replied, waving away Mako as he stepped forward to take her burden. "No, no, Mako, I'll take care of these. You go get Mireu and Min; they're playing in the room."

Mako left the kitchen, leaving Bolin and his mother to ladle stew into bowls. Bolin would probably try to gulp the first bowl whole before his mother earthbended the ground from beneath his feet. Mako didn't want to be there when it happened. There had been a nasty occasion when Bolin hadn't managed to drain his bowl in time and had instead sent the contents flying. It was a good thing Mako was so tall that the stew, instead of melting his face off, had splattered all over his middrift. The resulting burn failed to be any less painful, however, and Mako made a bad habit of bringing it up when he needed to guilt Bolin into doing him favors which was almost every day.

The living room area was mostly empty except for a small pile of placemats tucked neatly away in a corner and an arrangement of shrubbery that littered the floor around it with fallen leaves and twigs. Mako might have taken pity on the neglected plants and watered them but instead reminded himself of the last plant he'd killed.

A pair of sliding shoji doors led into the only other room in the house. From inside came the chattering of Mireu and Min, ages seven and two respectively. As Mako slid back the door, he heard Min cry out in delight.

"Done! Done!" Min exclaimed as Mako entered, holding up a drawing she had evidently completed.

Min and Mireu were sitting opposite each other, a mess of pencils and drawing paper between them. A couple of broken crayons were also rolling about, leaving streaks of disconnected rainbows in their wake. Sunlight streamed in through the single window which was half-concealed by an ornate wooden wardrobe.

"Hey, Min, what've you got there?" Mako knelt down next to his baby sister.

Min had large green eyes, a mushroom button nose, and a thin layer of soft black hair. Her little smock was stained with colorful smudges but she looked ecstatic as she waved her finished art project in Mako's face. Across from her sat Mireu, rail-thin with untidy black hair, his golden eyes concentrated on his piece of paper. If he'd been a bit taller, he would have been a clone of Mako when he was seven years old.

Mako took the drawing from her small hands and observed it with all the care of a doting brother. The picture was a portrait of their family. Their mother, whose face was drawn twice as large as her body, was holding a mass of circles he supposed were plates. To her right was Bolin, wearing a goofy grin that breached the confines of his round face. The next was Mako, his proportions stretched comically into chopstick limbs and a triangular face. Min had also taken to emphasizing his height by cutting off his feet at the edge of the paper. And then finally, Min and Mireu followed, both looking like pudgy dolls next to Mako's elongated body.

"You did a really good job, Min!" Mako said in an overly enthusiastic singsong voice. Min giggled, clapping her hands and stretching her arms wide. This meant she wanted a hug.

Mako obliged by handing her back the paper and lifting her off the ground. Min squealed in delight, her pudgy fingers gripping his shoulders as he stood up to his full height, which to Min was comparable to flying. She laughed aloud in joy and shoved her picture into Mako's face.

"Okay, easy there, Min," Mako chided as he took the picture before she could smother him. He looked down at the drawing again and suddenly realized something.

"Hey, Min," he said, trying to balance her on his hip as she started flapping her arms in an immiation of a rooster-falcon. "You've left someone out of your picture."

Min looked up at him, her green eyes looking confused. "My picture?" she asked, pausing mid-flap to gaze up at her brother.

"Yeah, here-" he boosted her onto his shoulders where she sat with her legs curled around his neck, "-you take a look."

Min edged around Mako's head to examine her drawing as Mako held it up to eye-level so they could both see it. She stretched out an arm and poked each person in her drawing as she named them.

"Mommy," she said, jabbing her finger at her mother's plates. "Bowin," She poked Bolin's enormous smile. "Mako," she pointed, grabbing Mako's ear with her other hand for support as she shifted to reach farther. "Min and Mee-reu" she pressed her palm against the two figures.

"That's right," Mako said, trying to pry her tiny fingers from his ear. "And then there's someone else."

"Who?" Min asked, genuinely confused.

"It's-"

Mako stopped. He had just been about to say "It's Dad" when the words caught in his throat. He sneaked half a glance at Mireu who seemed to be still absorbed in his own work. For a moment, Mako imagined himself sitting next to Mireu. It'd been months ago...

"_When's Dad gonna be home?"_

"_Soon. Real soon."_

"_I can tell you're lying... he's not coming back, is he?"_

"It's…" Mako faltered, coming out of his reverie. Min's innocent green eyes met his amber ones, the exact same shade as Mireu and his father's. "It's missing… Mr. Lee. Your doll." Mako improvised lamely.

"Oh!" said Min in surprise. She pointed to her doll lying on the floor. "Mr. Lee."

Mako didn't say anything as he lifted her off his shoulders. When Min wasn't looking, he surreptitiously folded the picture and tucked it into his pocket.

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><p>The family liked to dine outside during the warm season. Everyone sat around a stone table on blocks of rock in the shade of a tall tree, the makeshift furniture all courtesy of Bolin's earthbending skills. Atop a plain white tablecloth, bowls of potato stew were laid out beside chopsticks and tin cups. When everyone was seated and Mako had tied a handkerchief around Min's neck to keep her from adding stew to her crayon stains, the whole family dug in. Predictably, Bolin was asking for seconds before anyone else had finished their first.<p>

"Mom?" Mako coughed a bit. His mother looked up. This was the secret signal they had come up with a few weeks ago so that the little ones wouldn't start asking questions and no one had to come up with pathetic lies.

"Drink some water, dear," his mother replied, shaking her head ever so slightly.

Mako nodded, understanding. He hadn't even been hopeful this time and yet he felt his heart sink a little at her coded answer. He glanced sideways at Bolin who was also listening but was pretending to be engrossed in scraping his bowl clean. Bolin gave Mako a look that followed every single time the answer had been less than optimistic.

When everyone was finished eating, Mako helped clear the tables while Mireu led Min inside the house. Bolin stomped the ground until the tables and chairs and been rammed back into the earth. No one spoke while they cleaned up.

"Hey, Mako, where're you headed?" Bolin asked an hour later as Mako was leaving the house.

"The market. I told Mr. Noh I'd be there by two."

"Oh, yeah, you've got a parttime job with him. How many gigs does that make? Two? Three?"

Mako glanced at his brother before answering, "Five."

Bolin nearly fell over. "WHAT? Five? How can you possibly manage all of them?"

Mako chose not to answer. They had nearly reached the entrance to the village. Two years ago, their whole family had gathered for the last time. Though neither of them said anything, both were remembering the scene as though it were yesterday.

_"I'm counting on you two to help your mother run things while I'm away."_

"Hey, Mako," Bolin began once they were out of the village and walking along a downhill path. "What do you reckon?"

Mako didn't have to ask what he meant. Even when he slept he seemed to be thinking about his father, wondering where in the world he could be right now.

"I don't know, Bolin." Mako finally answered. "Dad hasn't written for a while. His last letter was five months ago."

The two brothers lapsed into silence as they drew near the Chin River. The gushing water sparkled white in the sunlight, the air around it cool and refreshing. Trees waved lazily at them as they passed, gravel crunching underfoot, both deep in thought.

It had been the first week of February when Kenji's last letter reached them though no one had realized it. It came by post as usual. They had sat around the wearing coats and thick socks, unable to get the boiler working since the snowfall a few days earlier. This weekly ritual of receiving Kenji's letter always began by their mother slowly opened the envelope.

"Dear darling family," was how the first line usually began, which was Bolin's cue to make ludicrous gagging noises while Min and Mireu rolled around in a fit of giggles. Mako would then aim a kick at Bolin to shut him up before his mother continued reading.

_I hope you're all doing well. Everything's fine over here. I've managed to move to an apartment that doesn't charge as much and it's much more comfortable, I must admit._

"Well that's a relief," their mother had said. "I can't believe anyone would charge so much as that land lady did. And for such terrible lodgings!"

_Work's going smoothly as usual. I've made a couple changes to the manuscript but the newspaper seems happy to run it anyways. Just think; this will be the first time my name's in print!_

"Wow, Dad's finally getting published!" Bolin had punched the air like a dog trying to stay afloat in water and the younger two had snorted with laughter.

_I was a bit nervous when first sending in the article. People warned me that it might be a bit too controversial. As I've already mentioned in my previous letters, there are some people who are quite sensitive about this matter. Rather passionate too, I should add. It just astounds me how much everything's changed. A couple of years ago I'd never have believed anyone would actually be against bending let alone a whole group of people. And in Republic City, no less! Fortunately, a couple of my acquaintances assure me that this is a relatively new occurrence and that it'll blow over soon enough. When the newspaper comes out, I'll be sure to send you a copy. Stay safe and wish me luck!_

_With love,_ (more gagging from Bolin)

_Dad_

Elated by the good news, they had waited. And waited. And waited. Two weeks passed before their mother had started to fret. At first they had assumed the snowfall had delayed their letters but every time the postman showed up, there were no letters, late or otherwise, from Kenji.

They started sending letters every single day, asking if something had happened. When no answer returned, they wrote to the Republic City Police Department, asking them to check on him. Exactly 10 days would pass before they received a reply. In those ten days, everyone fidgeted and worried. Min and Mireu much less because their mother had reassured them with half-truths about Kenji being busy and something about unreliable postal services but the atmosphere was so tense that it was hard to concentrate on anything else. Then the letter came.

The letter was much different from the one they were used to seeing. Kenji usually wrote on faded yellow paper with a weak nib pen that kept drying out near the end of a sentence. This one reeked of authority with its thick white paper and neat printed letters. There was also an official wax seal, a dried clump of bloody red that should have warned them of the horrifying news awaiting them.

_**To whomever it may concern,**_

_**The Republic City Police Department has searched the residence requested. The place in question has not been occupied since FEB. 2. The landlady has said that the lodger in question has not been seen since that time and has failed to pay his rent. His belongings have since been cleared out. Police inquiry has yielded no further information. This case has thus been closed until further notice.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Chief Bei Fong**_

_**Republic City Police Department**_

A couple of weeks were spent trying to get in contact with the chief again but all was useless. There was no question of going to look for Kenji on their own as they lacked the money. Even if they managed to scrape enough together for a round trip ticket, they didn't have a clue as to where Kenji might be. No one in the family voiced aloud the uncertainties that he might be dead whether it was accident or murder. In the end they stopped talking about it directly and any mention of Kenji had become subtle and preferably never within earshot of Min or Mireu. At one point, Mireu had cottoned on to the fact that his father really was missing. It wasn't a matter of not sending letters anymore. Based on snatches of whispered conversations between his older brothers and his mother, he had finally come to the conclusion that Kenji might never return at all.

"_I can tell you're lying... he's not coming back, is he?"_

Mako would have given anything to say with absolute, irrefutable conviction that Kenji was coming back. But by then, it wasn't just Mireu. He, Mako, had started to have doubts too. Instead of lying, he had changed the subject, hoping against hope that his father really was coming home.

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><p>Review Please! :D<p> 


	3. Hired Help

A/N: ooooh, I'm so thankful for everyone who read my story! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own A:TLA or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Hired Help<strong>

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><p>Bolin, when it came down to it, really was a natural country boy. As a kid he'd helped his mother plow the fields with earthbending, and seemed to share an understanding with animals of all shapes and sizes. Back in the days before the drought, their family had owned a small farm with beaver-pigs and turtle-ducks. Bolin had practically run the little farm by himself, taking care of each animal with attentive care. The animals, in turn, seemed to trust him like no other.<p>

Apart from farm work, cooking was a favorite pastime of his. When their mother had been pregnant with Min, Bolin had taken it upon himself to do most of the cooking. Although Bolin spent more time eating his mother's meals rather than helping her cook anything, he turned out to be just as skilled at whipping up a dish of fried rice as he was at cleaning his plate.

The villagers all knew this about Bolin and, coupled with Bolin's amiable character and carefree spirit, took a liking to him almost at once. There was hardly anyone in Toh Sa Village or the neighboring town he wasn't on speaking terms with.

Bolin rather enjoyed being a social magnet but he sometimes wondered if Mako was bothered by it. No matter how you looked at it, Mako and Bolin were complete opposites.

When they were younger, their parents had encouraged Mako to help out in the soy bean fields like his younger brother. Their parents regretted this action immediately once Mako started displaying such an uncanny knack for ruining more crops than he actually grew that his mother had thought he was doing it on purpose.

"_How dare you do this, Mako! How dare you!"_

"_Xiuling, calm down. I'm sure our son didn't mean it."_

In Bolin's opinion, it wasn't for a lack of trying but even he had to admit Mako's appalling abilities. The young firebender never watered the seeds but drowned them, constantly pulled out saplings by their roots thinking they were weeds, and on one memorable occasion managed to kill an entire field of soy beans after giving them twice the amount of fertilizer than necessary. Thankfully, the animals were spared due to Bolin's refusal to let his brother do anything more than pet them.

After being forbidden to do so much as stare at the field for too long, Mako spent most of his time playing indoors with his father and Mireu. Kenji, who'd been a novelist before marrying their mother and moving to the country, taught Mako calligraphy and let him read from his personal collection. It wasn't long before Mako read his father's entire collection and started requesting other reading material which Kenji supplied whenever he could.

His father had often brought back books on new subjects Mako had never even heard of. Once his father had found a dusty maintenance manual at a flea market and Mako, not even knowing what a motorcycle was, had finished it in one sitting. After a couple more instruction manual read-throughs, Bolin had watched his older brother fixing everything from the kitchen pipeline to the neighbor's old plowing machine. By the time they were teenagers, Mako was taking odd jobs at a neighboring town and earning pocket money. When their father left, Mako started taking up even more jobs in order to support their family.

As far as Bolin could tell, Mako usually spent more time tinkering than conversing with anyone in town. Even in their own village Mako usually spent his time alone or with his family members. The most interaction he had with his neighbors were polite greetings and limited small talk. There were very few boys their age now but when growing up, most of the village kids had teased Mako mercilessly for his conspicuous height, and Mako had few friends to miss when they moved away.

It was perhaps for this last reason that Bolin felt compelled to keep his brother company even when he was making his daily road trip to town for one of his gigs.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to the fields?" Mako asked when after a while Bolin didn't turn back to head home.

"What for? You saw the fields; they're doomed." Bolin answered morosely. He looked sideways (at an upward angle) at his brother and added, "Besides, I thought I'd get a job myself. Just to keep busy, you know."

The two brothers walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached Shin Ren Town.

Shin Ren Town was roughly an hour's walk from Toh Sa Village. The town's main attraction was a busy marketplace which comprised a series of large tented areas and a row of shops with ancient plywood walls and rusty tin roofs. Most of the merchants were outside fanning themselves or chatting with their neighbors. A trickle of customers milled around, browsing and attempting to score outrageous bargains.

Mako and Bolin made their way through the market, passing stands selling fruit, beans, dried red peppers, and a tangle of strange herbs a seedy merchant claimed were "mystical healing agents". Some people were selling pots and pans, others selling live trout that thrashed around in basins of water. Mako had to practically drag Bolin forward as every time they came across something edible, Bolin's feet slowed, his pupils dilated, and his mouth positively watered at the sight of food.

"You just ate lunch!" Mako hissed impatiently when Bolin stopped in his tracks the fifth time to gaze longingly at a neatly stacked pile of moon cakes.

At long last, they reached a part of the market where there were less things to eat and far fewer people bustling about. Mako entered a shop to their right which had a faded sign hanging over the door reading "Noh's Print Shop".

"Good afternoon, Mr. Noh," Mako said, bowing to an elderly old man upon entering. The old man had a mop of gray hair, his face a fleshy mask of liver spots and behind a pair of half-moon spectacles twinkled a pair of kind, brown eyes. His hands were folded in front of him and he walked with a slight limp, a souvenir from a childhood accident.

Mr. Noh was the owner of the only printing press in the entire market. Inside his shop, the air was stuffy and hot even with the windows thrown wide open and a fan sputtered on the desk making ominous grinding noises. Every single inch of wallspace had been devoted to printouts of different font, format and ink. At the very back of the shop was an old printing press which shook violently every time it spat out paper.

"Ah, Mako. Right on time I see," Mr. Noh said, clapping a wrinkly hand on Mako's elbow, his shoulder being out of reach. The old man then turned to Bolin who had stumbled in behind his older brother. "and your brother is here with you. Bolin, was it?"

"Yes, sir!" Bolin replied, straightening up immediately.

"Ah, forgive an old man his failing memory but-," he turned to Mako, a little perplexed. "I don't recall giving your brother a job as well."

"No, sir, you didn't," Mako replied as Bolin flushed red and tried to blend in with his surroundings. "But you see, sir, we were wondering if you couldn't make an exception because of the-"

Mr. Noh waved away his explanation, shaking his head.

"Yes, yes, I know Mako. The drought, isn't it?" When the two boys nodded he continued, "It's not just your village that's being affected you know. The farmers of Shin Ren are quite as devastated. However-" he gave Mako a meaningful look. "-I'm afraid this position is the only one I'm offering right now. Bolin will have to find work elsewhere."

Bolin looked crestfallen but took his leave. Mako watched the door close behind him before turning back to Mr. Noh.

"I am sorry, Mako," the old man apologized again. "I wish I could do more to help you. I knew your father, after all."

"It's okay, Mr. Noh. I'm quite grateful for the job opportunity." Mako replied.

"Hmm, keeping busy, I take it? From what I hear around the market, you're already working for half a dozen of my neighbors." Mr. Noh peered at Mako over his spectacles, examining the young firebender.

Mako didn't answer him.

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><p>Outside, Bolin had returned to his previous activity of staring at every single item of food on display. Some of the more agitated merchants shooed him away when he got too close to drooling over their products but most greeted him with a half-exasperated, half-amused smiles.<p>

One of Bolin's all-time favorite snacks was traditional Duk which were rice cakes and came in a variety of shapes and sizes. The merchant who sold Duk from a wagon stall was a middle-aged motherly type with a broad forehead and large quantities of bushy black hair she kept tied with a blue ribbon. Her name was Huaming, a good friend of Bolin's mother Xiuling, and knew only too well of Bolin's insatiable appetite for her Duk.

"I wondered when little Bolin was going to come visit me," She said as Bolin practically dived for her little wagon stall display of treats. Huaming deftly stepped in front of him and caught him in a strangling embrace, effectly stopping Bolin from getting too close to the Duk cakes.

"Nice to see you too," Bolin gasped when Huaming finally released him. He stepped back, massaging his neck.

Huaming smiled broadly, taking in Bolin's features.

"My, my you've grown, Bolin," she exclaimed, patting him on the arm. "How's your family doing? Is your mother all right? What about the crops? And do you still hear from-"

Bolin interrupted her before she could finish. "Family's doing great; Mako's here working. Mom's doing okay, she's at home. The crops are- well, could be worse. And as for the other thing, we're still waiting."

Huaming nodded in understanding. She'd been one of the few people they'd confided in about their missing father although at this point Bolin suspected most everyone would have guessed the truth; there were only so many ways to answer the question "have you heard from your father?" without saying "no".

"Yes, I've seen your brother around here quite often, actually," Huaming said with a thoughtful expression. "Must be quite busy with all the part-time jobs."

"Yep. He just told me he's got five," Bolin replied, feeling slightly downcast. "I don't know how he handles them but at least he tries. I've been struggling to keep that crop alive for months and nothing's doing. I should've found a job like Mako when the drought kicked in."

Huaming pondered this for a moment, observing the usually upbeat Bolin's gloomy face.

"Well, a job isn't that hard to come by around here, actually. The problem is whether the pay is worth it," Huaming began. "And a whole lot of places just want cheap labor for almost no pay, you know? Everyone wants to work a little less while making the same amount. But… oh wait!"

Bolin looked up at her sudden exclamation but she'd already dived behind her wagon. In a moment, she'd come out again with a sheaf of paper, rifling through the pages before finally extracting something like a colorful flyer.

"Ta-da!" Huaming sang as she waved it in Bolin's face.

Bolin took it. It was a poster featuring a rather well-drawn illustration of a tent in the middle surrounded by a group strange looking people. There was a shorthaired feminine-looking young man wearing a flowing red cape holding a ball of fire in one hand. Directly below the tent drawing was a muscular male standing with his enormous chest puffed out, his tight muscle shirt ready to split. Next to him was a young blonde woman in a flowing blue dress, curtsying prettily. The final person who seemed to leer above the canopy of the tent was a mysterious silver-haired male with a powered white face, a black diamond drawn right over his right eyelid. Down the right-hand side were the words "Shadow's Spectacular Traveling Circus" in artistic calligraphy.

"A traveling circus?" Bolin read, thoroughly bemused.

Huaming nodded enthusiastically. "Apparently they go everywhere, moving from place to place to perform. They also have this miniature carnival thing where people can enjoy the evening before the actual circus show." She pointed to a margin where a cramped time table had been inked in. "They arrived just yesterday just outside the town. There's going to be performance this evening."

"Um… that's great, I guess," Bolin mumbled. "But what does a circus have anything to do with… well, anything?"

Instead of replying, Huaming pulled out a second piece of paper from her pile, and Bolin realized that the sheaf of papers were all advertisements.

"Here," Huaming handed him the second flyer which Bolin took.

It was an ordinary handout recruiting hired help at the same circus on the poster. There was a short list of positions, one of which caught Bolin's eye at once.

"'Caretaker for circus animals'? That's excellent!" Bolin cried. "And they're offering… wow! This much for just a few days? The hours aren't bad either."

"They pay well because they're so busy and I hear the animals are quite unusual," Huaming explained, quite aware of Bolin's ability to deal with any animal however big and ferocious. "Oh, I almost forgot."

From her apron pocket Huaming produced two paper stubs.

"These are tickets to tonight's performance." Huaming said, pressing them into Bolin's hand. "I want you to go enjoy it with Mako."

Bolin looked taken aback and tried to return them. "Oh, no, Aunt Huaming, you've already done so much-"

"Not quite as much as your mother has done for me in the past. And after all you boys have been through, I think you need a break more than me," Huaming said, refusing the tickets. "I got these complimentary tickets when one of the circus people dropped by. Absolutely adored my Duk cakes, he did."

Bolin didn't press the point any further. Instead, he refrained from begging Huaming for any free Duk cakes and bade her good bye, setting off to find his brother and tell him of the surprise treat.

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><p>Review please? :DDD<p> 


	4. Circus Craze

A/N: Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed! Show your love for Bolin and Mako :DDD

Disclaimer: A:TLA and Legend of Korra are property of Nickelodeon. And Bryke ^^

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Circus Craze<strong>

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><p>Bolin and Mako had grown up with their fair share of parties and festivals. While in recent years birthday celebrations had become limited to a small fruit tart and a chorus of "Happy Birthday", Bolin still remembered walking hand in hand with his mother through a crowd of villagers wearing traditional festival garb, the paper lanterns overhead lighting their path. Mako had always enjoyed the fireworks; Bolin loved the food.<p>

The carnival started late in the afternoon when the sky was growing dark. Because the main tent and sideshow stalls took up so much space, the entire circus was set up outside Shin Ren Town in a clearing a little ways from Chin River. A wooden fence had been set up around the enclosure to bar trespassers and the gate was being guarded by a ticket inspector wearing festive robes in garish tones of yellow and orange.

Bolin and Mako were almost the first ones to arrive, Bolin clutching their tickets tightly in one hand, a punch-drunk grin on his face as he inhaled the colorful carnival atmosphere. Mako, standing beside his brother, gazed curiously at the large tent at the back of the fenced in area which was heavily strung with lights and resembled a pulsating bonfire.

The ticket inspector- who looked very unhappy to be dressed in an oversized costume- rolled up his sleeves as the two brothers approached and punched a hole in each ticket before returning them, grunting a resentful "enjoy yer stay" as they passed.

It was quite lucky for Mako he had such long legs for any regular person would have been hard put to keep up with Bolin who raced from stall to stall at top speed, not wanting to miss anything. Most of the stalls required a fee to play but rewarded winners with special tokens which could then be used in any other stall. For someone short on pocket money, this was a dream come true and Bolin had every intention of taking advantage of it.

"BOLIN!" Mako gasped after barely half an hour. "Slow down!"

They had already visited- or rather, stamped through- five different sideshow stalls where Bolin had managed to sweep some prize or another. Bolin's pockets were tinkling with tokens; his arms, and Mako's for that matter, were laden with stuffed animals, carnival masks, novelty scarves, and bags of candy. Mako, who was trying his best not to trip over the trailing novelty scarf unfurling around his neck, hurried after Bolin who seemed unaware that his older brother was close to a violent respiratory attack.

Mako skidded to halt beside their next stall and sucked in air like an asthmatic pipe smoker. Bolin was leaning over the counter, trying not to drop his prizes as he extracted tokens from his pocket. Through slightly bleary eyes, Mako read the sign overhead which screamed "DEVIL'S ARCHERY" in bold crimson letters.

"So for 3 tokens I can have 5 arrows?" Bolin was asking the stall owner, a freckled youth with course brown hair and rather large front teeth. The youth placed a set of arrows and a wooden bow on the counter then pointed wordlessly at a row of archery targets mounted on a wall behind him.

"Bolin, that's enough!" Mako, shouted, dumping his burden on the stall counter and trying to grab Bolin's wrist. "We can't carry all this stuff home!"

"Sure we can," Bolin replied bracingly as he stuffed the tokens into the stall owner's hands. "We just need something to carry it all in. Look," he pointed to the prize shelf above the targets. "that's what I'm talkin' about."

Mako stared in exasperation at the place Bolin was pointing. Between a deck of collectible cards and a furry cone-shaped hat sat a large side-strap bag with flamboyant illustrations of the circus performers on the front. Regretting the day he was born, Mako sighed and left find a bench to sit on.

Predictably, after about five minutes of misfires and disappointed cursing, Bolin came back with the bag in hand, grinning from ear to ear. Luckily for Mako, the task had turned out to be a little harder than expected and Bolin had exhausted his supply of tokens. Opening the bag, the two brothers proceeded to stuff it with as many prizes as physically possible.

"What're we gonna do with all this?" Bolin asked, gesturing to the pile of carnival candy that no amount of shoving could fit into the overflowing bag.

"Eat it or throw it away," Mako answered matter-of-factly.

"Okay, help me eat it then," Bolin said, opening a bag of toxic-looking green hard candy.

Mako cringed. "No way," he said, pushing the bag away. "That stuff looks poisonous. Just throw it away."

"Aw come on, Mako, just try it," Bolin cajoled him, waving a piece in his face.

Mako tried to fight off his brother but before entering the circus tent in time for the show, Bolin managed to force three pieces of candy into Mako's mouth which the disgruntled firebender begrudgingly swallowed.

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><p>The first act was a performance by a mixed group of trapeze artists, acrobats, and stilt-walking jugglers led by a star performer named Bing Su. Everyone- especially Bolin- cheered and clapped as Bing Su swung from trapeze to trapeze, cartwheeled across a tightrope as though on solid ground, and pirouetted atop a trained circus Eagle-pony as it cantered around the ring.<p>

The second act was Bolin's favorite: circus animals. A muscular man with thick, sinewy arms stood on a circular platform in the center of the ring as the most exotic and wild looking creatures were released from their steel cages. The muscular man- whose stage name was Mr. Tamer- wrestled with a snarling Koala-tiger, lassoed and subdued a bucking Tricorn and stuck his entire right arm into the mouth of a snoozing Ostrich-gator.

After the second act was over, there was a scheduled ten minute break in which Mako and Bolin decided to stretch their legs outside. Most of the spectators were families and Mako watched as a small little boy bawled into his father's neck, having been frightened by the freakish circus creatures.

"It wasn't that scary to be honest," Bolin said as they passed the tearful child. "I mean, it was pretty obvious that the Ostrich-gator had been sedated. You could just tell by how the lids weren't fluttering at all. Naturally they flutter to keep stray flies out of their eyes like regular Duck-gators do."

Mako let Bolin ramble on about different types of gators and their various eating habits while his mind wandered off, his eyes observing all the families around them. Small children hung off their parents' arms, a mother and father on each side. They all looked so happy and content; even the weary mothers who looked tired from keeping up with the youngsters.

Suddenly, unbidden, unwanted, a familiar voice spoke in Mako's ear.

"_I can tell you're lying... he's not coming back, is he?"_

Mako shook his head. He couldn't understand why he kept remembering Mireu's words. But a part of him, one that seemed quite immune to his guilt-consoling reasoning, knew the truth. Mireu, not to mention Min, were growing up without a father even if it was only a two-year absence. It was very different for Mako who'd seen his father's face every day for fifteen years before his departure. For Mireu and Min, the reasons for the absense of one parent hardly mattered for the result was essentially the same; they had no father and that was that. Mako felt sick at the thought.

"It's almost time for the magic show," said Bolin. Seeing his brother's face he added, "You okay, bro?"

"Yeah…" Mako muttered distractedly. "Let's go see that… that magic act."

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><p>Once everyone was seated, the silver-haired ringmaster Shadow, who'd introduced all the acts so far, came bouncing back out to tumultuous applause. Shadow performed a couple of cartwheels to the amusement of several children in the front row before grabbing the microphone again.<p>

"Ladies and gentleman, it's the time you've all been waiting for!" Shadow announced. Several people cheered. "Introducing our resident magician, please welcome The Incredible Inferno!"

A sudden plume of golden flames erupted next to Shadow who pretended to squeal and fall over in shock. Where the golden flames had been just moments ago stood a tall lean figure wearing a long crimson cape.

Getting up and dusting off his black suit Shadowed crowed, "The Incredible Inferno, everyone! Let the show begin!"

It was a magic show as Bolin and Mako had never seen it. Inferno performed a series of conjuring tricks which were actually firebending tricks but impressive all the same. From underneath a white handkerchief the magician produced a pair of doves, a trout, and a dragon all made of sparkling fireworks. When all of these had flown through the air and fizzled out, Inferno brought out a trolley with six different cups lined up and, sipping from each, started breathing fire in the most beautiful array of colors.

After a levitation trick involving a volunteer from the audience (Bolin almost cried when he wasn't picked), Shadow came rushing back out, applauding The Incredible Inferno as he did.

"Excellent!" Shadow positively shouted as the applause rained down everywhere. "Most impressive! But we have one more important magic trick left! The Impossible Escape act!"

As people oohed and awed, Mako suddenly felt ill. His gut performing backflips to rival that of Bing Su and Mako got up, feeling ready to hurl. Bolin hardly noticed him leave, so enthralled was he to witness Inferno's last performance.

Mako made it outside just in time. Doubling over, he vomited into a ditch behind the circus tent, emptying his heaving stomach. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Mako stepped back feeling light-headed but much better.

Cursing Bolin for making him eat wretched carnival food, Mako buried the pool of sick in dirt and made his way back to the tent. He was just about to make his way down to his seat when he realized that what was happening on stage wasn't an illusion. He watched in utter bemusement as Bolin raced pell-mell toward the ring, knocking over several people as he jumped over the rows of seats. In the center of the ring, a thin rectangular box was chained to the ground, emitting plumes of black smoke as it burned red hot.

In seconds, Mako put two and two together, realizing what "the impossible escape act" was and that Bolin was running to save someone who was apparently being cooked alive.

"BOLIN!" Mako yelled, running down the steps as fast as he could. "BOLIN, STOP! STOP! IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT-"

Bolin had barely reached the flaming box with three circus attendants trying to detain him when the box exploded. Mako was blinded by the bright light as the top of the box was blown off, a flash of crimson burst forth spraying sparks everywhere, and then, to the startled screams of several spectators, The Incredible Inferno, unharmed with the exception of a severely scorched cape, floated gently to the ground, smiling broadly.

Mako ran to Bolin who was lying spread-eagled next to the three attendants who had been knocked unconscious. After several slaps to his face, Bolin came to, bleary eyed and groggy.

"Wha- what happened?" were his first words.

"You idiot!" Mako nearly bellowed over the screams and cheers of the audience. Shadow was saying something about a "close call" but Mako wasn't listening. "What do you think you were doing? You almost got killed!"

"But… Inferno… something was wrong with… the trick…"

"Of course they'd say that!" Mako yelled with unadulterated exasperation. "That's just to build up the tension and scare people into thinking the magic act failed!"

Bolin suddenly righted himself as a shadow fell over Mako's head. He looked up to see the uncharacteriscally angry face of the ringmaster glowering at him through a layer of white make-up, the black diamond clearly painted over his right eyelid.

"You two gentlemen- come with me," Shadow whispered in a dangerously low voice. Mako looked around him. Nearly everyone had exited the tent and someone had carried away the three attendants. "And don't try to run," Shadow added.

Bolin looked at Mako, clearly scared. Mako wanted to hit him but helped him stand instead.

"Whatever job you were after, you pretty much blew it," Mako told his sooty brother.

They followed Shadow across the deserted ring which was littered with fragments of charred wood, melted chains, and blackened bits of crimson cape; the remains of a masterful magic performance and their once enjoyable evening.

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><p>Review Please? :)<p> 


	5. Hero

A/N: Thanks for sticking with Mako and Bolin thus far xD Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own A:TLA or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Hero... sort of.<strong>

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><p>Bing Su placed the curling iron on the little table as the last strand of her perfect raven hair was set into a glossy ink-black spiral. She glanced into the vanity mirror which was illuminated with glowing light bulbs. Even in the stuffy staff tent she was as beautiful as ever; slender nose, perfectly white teeth, and dove-gray eyes behind dark lashes.<p>

Suddenly, there was a rustling noise behind her and the pungent smell of smoke reached her nose.

"Honestly, darling, was it really necessary to set your clothes on fire as well?" Bing Su drawled without turning around. Reflected in her mirror was her best friend Iriah, or as the world currently knew her, the Incredible Inferno.

Iriah was exceptionally tall which worked to her advantage during a show when she masqueraded as a charming handsome young magician- a male one at that. With the help of some hair-gel, a custom dress shirt with ruffles down the front and a useful crimson cape, none of her audience ever doubted that the Incredible Inferno was a dashing young man.

Or so she had thought… Iriah had just come out of sticky situation where her performance had almost been ruined by a hysteric teenage boy jumping to her "rescue" during the escape act. She had had no choice but to blow the entire vanishing cabinet apart- one that had cost a small fortune to have custom built- before letting the kid ruin the entire show. Whether the boy had cottoned onto her disguise or not was of little importance; someone had still spotted a damsel in distress and had come bolting to the rescue.

Iriah clenched her fist. She didn't need to be saved. She didn't need a hero, not when the last one still lingered in her memories like a half-remembered magic trick, a dying ember in a silver breeze...

"_I'll always protect you, Iriah…" _

"There was this boy in audience," Iriah began, throwing her smoking cape to the side. "he tried to save me."

Bing Su cocked a plucked eyebrow at Iriah in the mirror as she started to paint her nails.

"Was he cute?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I didn't get a good look at him. I was in the vanishing cabinet when it happened." Iriah muttered, annoyed that Bing Su wasn't taking her seriously. "Shadow started yelling so I got the gist and bolted."

"Hmm…" Bing Su mused, examining her painted nails. "After all that trouble I went to do your hair and the boys still won't leave you alone. Honestly, Iriah, what is your secret?"

Iriah ignored this and plopped into the chair next to Bing Su. She started to erase her stage makeup: Foundation, compact powder, latex; all of it an elaborate rouse to make her look more masculine, more macho, more I-don't-need-saving-thanks.

Beside her, Bing Su had finished painting her nails a brilliant emerald to match her current dress; a flowing wrap-around with crystals dotting the corset. She exuded feminine delicacy but also a dominating aura of confidence that left people in no doubt that Bing Su was her own woman, independent and fearless. She was everything Iriah aspired to be but only managed to imitate her charisma through pale mimicry- through the guise of a man, no less.

Sometimes Iriah wondered why she bothered anymore.

"Oh, by the way, what happened to that sweet little boy?" Bing Su asked as Iriah removed the last of the latex on her face. "Did you give your hero a nice big kiss afterwards?"

"What? No, I left. I think Shadow wanted to talk to him though." Iriah answered nonchalantly.

There was a clattering sound. Iriah looked up to see Bing Su's expression of shocked surprise. The bottle of nail polish had dropped from her hand but that wasn't what Bing Su was staring at.

"What? What's the matter?" Iriah asked, startled.

"Shadow wanted to talk to him?" Bing Su echoed, not bothering to pick up the nail polish which was oozing emerald all over the floor. "_Talk_ to him?"

"Yeah, so?" There was a sudden pause and then, "Oh no. You don't think- He wouldn't-"

Without another word, Bing Su grabbed Iriah by the wrist and practically dragged her out of the staff tent and into the night. Stars twinkling overhead, the two girls sprinted across the carnival grounds where all the stalls were packing up. Some of the last minute stragglers pointed in awe as they passed, Bing Su's elaborate curls flying behind her.

Iriah's longer legs overtook Bing Su as she sprinted ahead, not daring to stop. It was her turn to save the boy now.

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><p>A short walk from the main circus tent led to a series of wooden caravan cars, each sporting a banner announcing Shadow's Traveling Circus, each a different gaudy color. Shadow led the two brothers to the very front of the long line where the largest one was parked, painted with silver and black that seemed almost metallic.<p>

"In here," Shadow said, wrenching open the door with unnecessary force.

Mako and Bolin looked at each other- Bolin gulped audibly- before stepping one by one up the stairs into the caravan car. Shadow climbed in after them and shut the door.

The inside of the caravan car was nothing Mako had imagined it to be. As the dwelling place of a circus ringleader, he had expected more vivid decorations; gaudy costumes bursting from cramped closets; a vanity mirror with a table overflowing with glittery make-up; autographed posters of star performers. Instead it was bare, almost depressing.

A small bed with plain gray sheets was pushed up against one wall, a chest of neatly folded clothes lying open beside it. Taking up another corner was an antique desk, meticulously organized with a single sheet of paper and fountain pen lying ready for use. The room had one window which was shuttered, curtains drawn so that when Shadow closed the door, they were engulfed in darkness.

"Someone turn on the-" Bolin began but was cut short when Mako produced a ball of fire in his hand.

"No need, I've got an oil lamp right here," said Shadow, lighting a lamp hanging on the wall. Turning to the brothers he said, "Take a seat, gentlemen."

Bolin looked around, bewildered at the absence of chairs, before Mako unclasped a wooden board chained to the wall. The long board fell at a ninety-degree angle to wall, forming a bench. Mako sat down immediately, his back already aching from standing hunched over to keep his head from hitting the ceiling. Bolin sat beside him, looking visibly scared.

Shadow took off his jacket and hung it on a peg before dragging a chair closer to the two boys. Removing his white gloves, he steepled his hands, examining Mako and Bolin. Bolin fidgeted under his gaze.

"You boys caused an- uh, let's see- an interference at tonight's performance," Shadow said, his voice quite unlike his jovial tone during the circus acts. It was low and silky, no longer sing-song but cold and articulate. To Mako he sounded like cynical nobleman; to Bolin, he sounded like a mass murderer.

"Our circus- or shall I say my circus- does not tolerate people who wish to sabotage our performer's hard work or our audience's pleasure."

"I was just trying to save the magician's li-!"

"What my brother's trying to say is-"

"SILENCE!" Shadow hissed, eyes glinting as he stood up, clearly angry at their interruption. "You two-especially you, boy-" he pointed at Bolin who recoiled, "-have caused my circus-"

"Your circus?"

The door banged open and there, silhouetted against the moonlight, stood two figures, one very tall and the other of medium height. The tall one was the first to climb into the caravan car and was shortly followed by the second person. In the lamplight Mako saw that the new arrivals were none other than Bing Su, the star trapeze artist, and the magician Bolin had tried to "save", the Incredible Inferno. While Bing Su had changed into a more comfortable dress, Inferno was still wearing the frilly white shirt and trousers minus the scorched cape.

"What are you two doing here?" Shadow snapped, clearly agitated at their arrival.

"Oh, don't act all high and mighty," Inferno scoffed, moving closer to the light. "We knew you were up to something."

"Hey wait!" Bolin suddenly cried, making everyone stare at him. He was pointing a finger at Inferno who was sitting on the desk, unable to stand up straight for fear of butting heads with the ceiling. Leaning in a bit Bolin cried out in an incredulous tone, "You're… you're a girl!"

There was a moment of awkward silence where Bolin sat frozen, his finger pointing dramatically; Mako looked away, embarrassed; Bing Su covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle; Shadow looked annoyed; Inferno just stared back at Bolin with an amused grin.

"You're that kid who tried to save me, aren't you?" Inferno asked, studying the teenage earthbender steadily.

Bolin blushed. "Um… yeah, I guess I am," he muttered. "I'm Bolin."

"Nice to meet you, Bolin. My name's Iriah," the magician smiled before adding, "Thanks for… trying to save me back there."

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><p>The two brothers were allowed to leave after a heated argument between an angry Shadow and the two girls over how to punish Bolin for his "noble" stupidity. It went a lot better than Mako had hoped considering Bolin had effectively destroyed a "priceless performance prop" according to Shadow, which turned out to be a vanishing cabinet used in the escape act. In the end, the three decided that Bolin would help out at the circus to pay for the damage.<p>

Mako had to explain himself hoarse that he had not been a part of a "premeditated diabolical plot to sabotage the circus", as Shadow put it, until the disgruntled ringmaster finally let it go. Additionally, Mako managed to convince Iriah and Bing Su to hire him in order to keep an eye on Bolin.

"Cheer up," Mako told Bolin later as they made their way back to the village. "You got that job you wanted."

"Easy for you to say," Bolin shot back miserably. "You weren't yelled at by a pasty-faced clown. And besides-" he shot Mako a bitter look, "-you're actually getting paid."

"Well, next time, check that someone's actually in trouble before running to the rescue, okay?"

With that, the two boys trekked the rest of the way in silence and, by the time they reached their village, Mako and Bolin were too exhausted to make up excuses for their tardy arrival. For Bolin, who started his charity services the following day, a broken curfew was the least of his worries.

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><p>Review Please? :)<p> 


	6. A Familiar Name

A/N: Ah, took me forever to write this one! Must have three different drafts but I finally got it done and over with :D Enjoy, everybody!

Disclaimer: I don't own ATLA or LoK.

Update 12-2-11: Fixed a glaringly obvious continuity issue in this chapter. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then thank goodness :D

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: A Familiar Name<strong>

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><p>The following morning it rained. The clouds that were absent throughout the long stretch of drought now reappeared in a begrudging comeback with every intention of flooding the world. As water pounded the roof, the family sat around the cramped kitchen breakfasting on porridge and small potatoes. Though no one mentioned it, Mako knew that their meals were becoming increasingly meager; he feared they wouldn't have enough money saved up in time for winter.<p>

While everyone else ate, Mako slowly chewed his food and did a quick calculation of all the money he would make by the end of the month. Even with the new job at the circus, he doubted the family would be able to survive the entire winter with three square meals a day.

"Hmf, Ma-goh, youf gonna fimif dat?" Bolin asked through a mouthful of porridge.

"Huh, what?"

"I said," Bolin gulped down his food before repeating himself. "are you going to finish that?"

Bolin pointed at the last potato on Mako's plate. Mako was very far from full but the thought of winter had spoiled his appetite as though his body were preparing itself for tighter rationing already. Mako pushed the plate toward his brother and Bolin whisked the potato out of sight.

After breakfast the rain was still coming down hard. Outside, pools of water were forming, the roads turned to muddy paths marked with ankle-deep footprints. A dog howled mournfully in the distance, lamenting the woefully wet weather.

"Ah, geez," Bolin muttered, leaning against the doorframe as he surveyed the muddy roads leading out of town. "How're we gonna get from here to the circus?"

The irony of the weather's timing was not lost on Mako. Bolin had dashed outside to check on the soil beans at the crack of dawn when the rain started falling, only to come back home thoroughly dejected. Despite his earlier confidence that miracle supply of enough water could revive the shriveled plants, his calculation had fallen short. Either the water still wasn't enough or the roots had dried up completely during the prolonged water shortage. Had the rain come just a bit sooner, Bolin probably would have been cartwheeling outside in the puddles, whatever their prospects of getting to the circus on time.

"We can either wait it out-" Mako began, only to be cut short by his highly disgruntled brother.

"-and what, get torn to shreds by that maniac circus clown?" Bolin retorted, quite agitated at the condemnable drought that had decided to end once the soybeans were no longer revivable.

"-or," Mako continued steadily. "we can borrow Suma."

Suma was the name of a female ostrich-horse that their old neighbor, Mr. Qing, kept tied at all times outside in a shed. The ostrich-horse was his prized possession and the old man despised anyone coming near her, or his house for that matter. What Mako was suggesting was of course not the textbook definition of "borrowing" but rather breaking in and coaxing Suma out with bait (usually a human finger would suffice). Normally it was Bolin who suggested anything so blatantly lawless but these were desperate times and for all Mako knew, Shadow hadn't been joking about breaking every bone in Bolin's body should he be late for his first day.

That was how Mako and Bolin found themselves crouching outside a small shed big enough to house one prized ostrich-horse in a neighbor's backyard, having attempted to pick the fence, failed, then proceeded to climb over it by raising the ground with Bolin's earthbending. They were now both soaked to the bone but so far had not been caught trespassing.

"You go in first; I'll stand guard," Mako told Bolin, giving his brother a sharp shove toward the shed door.

"What? Why do I have to do the actual stealing?" Bolin protested, trying to push Mako back.

"We're already in the bloody backyard- trespassing, in case you forgot- so get in there and get Suma out fast!"

After two more minutes of fierce bickering, Bolin relented and slipped inside the shed to coax the ostrich-horse out. Mako stayed in front of the shed, knowing full well that no one was going to be out in the rain to spot them; Mr. Qing was very, very well known to sleep most his time away and, on the odd occasion that he was actually seen awake, it was always during the sunny days when his bones wouldn't ache so much.

After about five minutes, Bolin backed out of the shed, gripping the reins of a hesitant ostrich-horse. Suma clicked her beaks impatiently, apparently indignant at being dragged out into the rain and ruining her mane. Unlike her narcoleptic master, Suma was a feisty specimen with enough youth left in her to carry the two brothers without a sweat. She was, however, rarely saddled and required a full ten minutes of soothing and petting to mount.

"I hate ostrich-horses," Mako muttered when they were finally on the road to Shin Ren Town. As though she had heard him, Suma bucked violently, nearly throwing Mako and Bolin off her back.

"Okay, I'm sorry!" Mako shouted, gripping the reins for dear life.

They reached the clearing with the circus tent just in time. The festive atmosphere of yesterday's evening was drenched in rain and gloom. All the stalls were closed and the main tent where Bolin had inadvertently botched a magic act looked sad without its colorful lights.

Mako dismounted first, careful to keep out of reach of Suma who was shooting accusing glances at him as though she knew her kidnapping had been all his idea. She seemed to take a liking to Bolin, however, as did all animals, and did not protest when he led her across the clearing to a large beige tent marked "ANIMALS".

"I'll see you after the shift, Mak!" Bolin called over his shoulder before entering the tent. Mako was expected to report to a different tent for maintenance duty. "See you then!"

Mako waved as his brother disappeared inside the tent. Vaguely wondering if he would be able to change clothes before starting duty, he set off toward another part of the circus, shielding his eyes from the continuous shower of rain.

Bing Su was waiting for him in the staff tent and was most displeased at his clothes which dripped water all over the place.

"Darling, really, you don't want to make a mess before even beginning to clean up, do you?" she scolded him authoritatively and chucked a towel at him before turning toward one of the many racks bulging with costumes.

"Uh, I don't think I'll really need a spare change of clothes," Mako said quickly, eyeing the ridiculously frilly, sequined magenta dress shirt Bing Su was examining on the rack.

"Don't be ridiculous, Koko, you're soaking wet!" Bing Su said, putting back the dress shirt on the rack and digging through one of the boxes at her feet.

"It's Mako," he corrected her, toweling off his hair and trying to mop up the pool of water forming at his feet. "And, really, I think I'll manage-"

"Here we are!" Bing Su exclaimed, pulling something out of the box.

The garment Bing Su was holding seemed to be a sparring uniform of some kind. It was a light beige color with a different red pattern trimmed with goldenrod running from chest to back. The knees, forearms, and elbows all had padding in the same red color and Mako could just imagine a sparring helmet that would go with it.

"Take your wet clothes off and change into this," Bing Su said, handing him the uniform. Mako accepted without fuss. He was half-afraid she would change her mind about the magenta dress shirt.

Once Mako had changed, Bing Su gave him a list of all the things that needed repairs including lighting equipment and a secret rigging device used in one of the magic acts (Mako had to swear not to tell anyone on pain of death).

"This area here is taken care of by our assistants," Bing Su explained, gesturing around the staff tent. "But some of the caravans need a bit of tidying up. Mine needs a bit of a paint job, too. These-" She pointed at the list, "-are private rooms of performers and need to be cleaned inside. Make sure to knock before entering because some people don't like their private space to be invaded. Especially Shadow."

Having no wish to visit Shadow and his depressing dungeon of a bedroom again, Mako nodded and set to work. The circus was surprisingly well equipped with necessary tools and spare parts so that fixing most of the props was no difficult task. In two hours, he had the faulty lighting equipment working again and had repaired the rigging device for the magic act as well as various other props and furniture. All that was left were the caravans.

Carrying green and silver paint for Bing Su's caravan car, Mako exited the tent and slowly made his way to the caravan train, careful not to spill any of the paint. By this time it had stopped raining so Mako had little trouble finding Bing Su's caravan which was covered in a banner reading "the Amazing Bing Su" and portraying a highly detailed illustration of the acrobatic beauty with her rich black hair flowing around her. The paint on the caravan was indeed weathered and faded and Mako got to work painting straight away.

"Oi, you there!" called a voice behind him.

Mako turned to see a grumpy looking man about average height with dark skin and a broad flat nose. He was wearing discolored robes of crimson and walked with a slight limp. The man's beady eyes met Mako but were soon staring at his chest as the gap closed between them and their height differences came into effect.

"You new here, kid?" the man barked, staring vehemently at Mako's chest.

"Yes sir," Mako replied, wondering who the man was.

"Aye, you must be cuz you picked the wrong clown to piss off, dincha?" the man growled, pointing an accusatory finger at eye level which happened to be somewhere along Mako's midrift. The agitated man continued, "You thought you could slack off, didja? Thought I wouldn't notice if you didn't clean my room, that it, kid?"

"No, sir, I was just told to-"

"Arr, enough with your stupid excuses and move your lazy bones over there to my caravan! What're you waiting for, kid? Get snapping or I'll bloody call the ringmaster, I will!" the man barked, spraying Mako's uniform with spittle.

One thing Mako had picked up during his many part-time jobs was to never argue with angry people who seemed to think they were your employer. When it came to service, you had no self-respect and certainly no pride. In order to keep a job, you had to bow your head low and do what the customer said. And this customer, with his beady eyes and accusatory glare, certainly meant business.

"Yes sir, right away sir," Mako said, picking up the cans of paint and moving as fast as possible without sloshing paint all over his borrowed clothes.

It was only after he was a good distance away that he realized he wasn't entirely sure which caravan belonged to the less-than-cheerful clown. The man had pointed rather vaguely in a far-off direction and, with all his yelling, Mako couldn't even remember if the man had wanted the caravan tidied or completely cleaned.

Sighing exasperatedly, Mako looked around the line of caravan cars, trying to determine which one might belong to a short-tempered, broad-nosed clown just by looking at the exterior. Most of them were painted with two colors. The man had been wearing red but that left half a dozen to choose from. Bing Su had her own banner on hers but the rest were all decorated with the same banner announcing the arrival of Shadow's Traveling Circus.

After a minute's contemplation, Mako picked a caravan at random and knocked on the door, realizing too late that, had he picked the right one, the owner was out. Thankfully, the door had been left open and Mako slipped inside without further hesitation.

To his immense relief, the room inside was not a complete pigsty. On the contrary it seemed rather neatly organized with a tidily made bed on the far side of the room along with several dressers and a desk. On a rack on the wall he found a clown's wig and decided that by sheer luck, he had picked the right car. He flung open the window to let some fresh air in.

Suddenly realizing he only had two buckets of paint to help him clean, Mako scanned the room for any rags or brooms to save him from another trip to the staff tent. Spotting something sticking out from the bottom most drawer of a dresser, he yanked it open without conscience; simply hoping to get the job done and get out before the clown came screaming at him again.

What Mako had mistaken for gray fabric was in fact a newspaper clipping, one of many. The entire drawer was packed with a stack of newspaper clippings, folded posters and adverts and, wedged in the back, a tarnished photo album tied with string.

Crouched on the floor, Mako read the newspaper clipping he was holding and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

Dated March 31st the article read:

**Equalist Revolt: Peaceful Protest or Political Propaganda?**

_**Special report by Kenji W. Lee**_

The shock was so sudden that Mako barely registered the creak of the door opening, the silent footsteps and then swish of a blunt instrument before he was knocked unconscious, his father's article still clutched in his hand.

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	7. Father's Dream

A/N: Ah, I know Mako doesn't have golden eyes but I couldn't resist. Allow me this one discrepancy, won't you? ^_^ He just looks prettier that way, in my opinion xD

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, or even James Cameron's Avatar for that matter.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Father's Dream<strong>

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><p>He ran; chest heaving, face and arms covered in scratches from the fight, muscles screaming for rest. The little boy, thin and quite tall for his age, didn't stop until he reached Chin River which wound its way down the field, serene and beautiful.<p>

The boy crouched down by the river's edge, careful not to fall in. He scooped cool water with his cupped hands and splashed his face, relishing the sharp, refreshing feeling. Scooping up more water, he drank some before proceeding to wash his arms of dirt and red stains. The blood wasn't his. The boy could still see the other child fall back at his furious punch, spinning away and hitting the ground, nose gushing blood everywhere.

That was when the boy had fled, not because he was afraid of blood or scared that he was in big trouble but because he had never hit another person before, not even his younger brother when he was at his most annoying. The boy prided himself in keeping his temper in check, something his father had always been proud of.

Suddenly, there were footsteps behind him, heavy ones. It was probably an adult. The child's parent, perhaps? Had they found the perpetrator so quickly? Would they punish him harshly for breaking their son's nose?

"Mako?" A voice called behind him.

Mako turned around to find his father standing there. His father was dressed in his old overalls. He might have passed for a real country farmer if it hadn't been for the sharp intellect burning clearly in his amber eyes; the eyes of a man who, despite living in one of the most rural areas of the Earth Kingdom, still wrote papers and knew more than anyone in the village about machines.

To young Mako, his father had always been an inspiration. But now, standing in front of him with his bangs wet with water and droplets dripping from his fingertips, he felt small, ashamed, not only of himself but also the man in front of him. Mako couldn't even meet his father's eyes, those brilliant gold eyes he himself had inherited.

"Mako, son, are you okay?" his father's voice was tentative, cautious. No doubt he had heard about the fight from the villagers. Mako didn't say anything, afraid he might start crying.

"Son, are you okay?" his father repeated, coming a step closer. Again, Mako did not answer.

Mako's father walked over, knelt in front of him and gave him a hug. Mako fought back tears as he hugged his father back, grateful for the embrace that was his safe haven, his birthright, his father.

"Tell me what happened, son," his father said, pulling away and gently holding the boy's face in his hands. "What happened?"

"He-" Mako started but the words caught in his throat, unwilling to part with his anger. "He-"

"Go ahead, Mako. What did the boy say to you?"

"He said…"

_Fire Nation scum! You and your dad are pilfering scoundrels! Sons of the tyrant Ozai! _

"He made fun of my height," Mako mumbled, compensating with a half-truth. The boys had indeed commented on Mako's unusually tall figure though it had by no means been the crux of the row.

His father however, nodded and didn't ask any more questions. Instead he took his sons hand and made their way back to the village. The rush of river water slowly died away behind him and Mako found himself squeezing his father's hand as though afraid it would disappear.

As they neared the village, his father spoke, a light, casual voice he used to tell bedtime stories.

"When I was your age, Mako, I dreamed of being the world's greatest journalist. I still dream about it, actually," he said. "Of course, not everyone approved of my dream. Even my own parents wanted me to go into politics so I could be a big important figure of the Fire Nation council and whatnot. I never wanted that though. I kept telling everyone I wanted to write and everyone would laugh and say how pointless and useless my dreams were. People would mock my writing and I ended up throwing a couple of punches myself. But the important thing is, Mako, even though I'm not a famous journalist right now, I still know what I want to do in life and I don't let anyone tell me what I am."

Mako nodded, not entirely sure where his father was going with this.

"I know it's hard when people say negative things about what you care about, Mako, but don't ever let anyone get you down," his father stressed, squeezing Mako's hand gently. And then, almost as an afterthought, he said, more to himself than Mako, "What I wouldn't give to be a journalist right now…"

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><p>Mako.<p>

Mako!

MAKO!

Mako felt something slap him hard across his face. His eyes flew open, tearing up from the pain. Covering the stinging cheek with one hand, he rolled over onto his side and found himself staring into someone's knees.

"Thank Agni! I thought you were dead!"

Mako looked up to see who had spoken. The owner of the knee was none other than Iriah, her short black hair covered with a hand towel, her forehead glistening with sweat. She had obviously been the one to slap him but Mako wondered just how long she'd been slapping him if she was sweating so profusely. How long had he been out?

"Wha- what happened?" Mako groaned, trying to lift his head and failing. There was a severe throbbing at the back of his head, a stinging, dull pain he suspected to be bleeding. In vague snippets as his brain started retrieving his last memories, he recalled the crack of something hard- wood? Metal?- against his skull, excruciating pain, and sudden blackness. Someone had attacked him.

"I am so, so sorry!" Iriah was saying, as Mako sifted through blurry recollections. "I… I thought you were a burglar, I swear! Oh, man… I really shouldn't have hit you so hard. You're lucky I didn't crack your skull-"

"Excuse me?" Mako did manage to sit up this time but to his immediate regret, he nearly retched all over the floor as the blood in his head threatened to explode from within and the room spun around him dizzyingly like a kaleidoscope of bland, dark colors.

"I didn't know it was you, I swear!" Iriah insisted, helping him onto her bed. He collapsed there, head buried into the pillow, swearing under his breath. "I just got here and someone was going through my stuff so- what were you doing anyways? But yeah, hitting you this hard was… oh, man…"

It felt like hours before the nausea and headache subsided. Iriah told him that the blow to his head - she refused to mention what she had hit him with – had been glancing enough that it hadn't broken any skin. Instead it had raised a bump the size of a serpent-quail's egg, something Iriah helpfully mentioned wouldn't go down for at least two weeks. She then told him to rest for the remainder of the work day, assuring him straight away that his paycheck wouldn't suffer.

After downing two cups of water, Mako lay back down on the bed, feeling better but tired. He didn't blame Iriah since he had been snooping through her stuff though he said that he'd only been looking for a rag. He also told her about the grumpy, broad-nosed clown he had bumped into and his assumption that this caravan car belonged to him.

"Oh, I should've known. That clown's name is Kai-ru. Right pain in the neck and he's not even mastered unicycling yet," Iriah scoffed disgustedly when Mako had finished explaining. "And yet the creep has the nerve to shove around everyone and anyone who he thinks he can bully. It's not your fault, Mako. He probably wanted you to get the place wrong so you'd get in trouble somehow. I know for a fact he doesn't do much with hygiene."

There was a slight pause before Iriah asked another question.

"Hey, Mako, where'd you get that sparring uniform?" she asked. Mako glanced at his arm before remembering that he had changed clothes before starting work.

"Oh, yeah. I got soaked in the rain coming here so Bing Su gave me this to wear. Why, does it belong to someone?"

"No, it's just… well, I was curious, was all," Iriah said, not quite meeting his gaze.

They were both silent for a while. Mako turned his head to a clock mounted on the wall. There was only about an hour left until his shift ended and he felt like a cheat lying there while Bolin was probably working- for no pay, at that. His head was feeling a lot better now, well enough to work and, suddenly, he felt something clutched in his hand.

"Hey, Iriah…" Mako began, sitting up slowly. "Um… what do you keep in that bottom drawer?"

Iriah looked slightly taken aback but studied him carefully instead of telling him to mind his own business. Mako stared back, his golden eyes locking with her brown ones. They stayed like that for a few moments before Iriah began to speak.

"You're descended from royalty, I see," she said matter-of-factly as though Mako's ancestry was something they had been discussing for the last twenty minutes.

"I'm not sure. Maybe," Mako replied.

"I've traveled a lot in recent years, Mako," Iriah said. "And I've come across golden eyes only twice. One is you of course. The other was in the presence of Princess Ursa on her eleventh birthday just last year."

Without waiting for Mako's answer - though admittedly he had none – Iriah got up from the edge of the bed and walked over to the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled it open. Mako watched in silence as Iriah brought over the neat stacks of newspaper clippings, placing it on the bed before him. She spread the clippings out for him.

Mako saw that most of the clippings had reoccurring keywords, each of them circled with red ink, probably by Iriah herself.

'Anti-bending Insurgency Rises'… 'Equalists Stike Again'… 'Antibending protests continue'…. 'Mayor under pressure for anti-bending terrorism'….

Mako folded the crumpled article in his hand and placed it next to the others, stunned beyond words at what he was seeing. He reread the title of his father's article and suddenly realized what he was seeing.

The date was March 31st and Kenji's last letter had arrived in the first week of February. Could it be that he was alive, that his father was actually safe? But then, why hadn't he contacted the family? What did all this have to with these Equalists or Anti-benders or whatever?

Mako stared at Iriah who was observing him quietly, almost sadly. He held up his father's article and, trying to keep his voice level as possible, said, "My father wrote this. Do you know- Does this -"

The air seemed to leave his lungs as slowly Iriah shook her head, her brown eyes filling with pity and sorrow.

"That article was published two months after the reporter - your father - was reportedly kidnapped by the Equalists," Iriah said, unable to meet his eyes. "The authorities... consider him to be dead. I'm sorry, Mako."

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	8. Confrontation

A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys! College applications are such a drag and all :( But I'm back with a squeaky new chapter. Huzzah!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Confrontation<strong>

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><p>"We need to talk."<p>

It was the following day. Bolin was uprooting the shriveled remains of what used to be a field of soybeans. He'd been at it for nearly two hours when his brother, looking more somber than ever, had approached him from behind.

Bolin wiped his brow with his forearm and squinted at Mako whose head was ringed by the sun, a golden halo framing his dark expression. Patting dirt off the seat of his pants, Bolin got up, trying to think up a reason why Mako would want to talk to him. Had someone died?

"Sure, Mako, what's up?"

Bolin tried to sound casual even though he'd noticed Mako brooding and deep in thought since the previous night. They'd ridden their stolen steed back to the village and Mako hadn't said a word all the way there. Brooding and Mako had a sort of on-again off-again love affair, as it were. Growing up, Bolin had learned to pick up the signs that led to his brother's full-on brooding moods but sometimes they were unpredictable. This was one of those days.

"Let's go down to river," Mako said, not looking at Bolin.

Bolin followed him in silence.

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><p>"What? What do you mean we need to move? Why?"<p>

The two brothers were standing at the bank of Chin River, Mako staring at the river while Bolin stood next to him, gawking up at his older brother in shock. Mako, with absurd brevity, had delivered the bombshell news that he'd been asking around neighboring towns about new lodgings for the entire family. The one place Mako had decided on (without anyone else's opinion), was located two villages north of Shin Ren Town. This was the first time Bolin had heard Mako discussing moving.

"What's going on, Mako? Why do we have to move?" Bolin waited for an answer that never came. Mako just stared at the river, washing fallen leaves and twigs under Mako's muted gaze.

Bolin sighed. He earthbended a small platform beneath his feet, boosting him up higher so he could place what he hoped to be a brotherly hand on Mako's shoulder. Bolin took it as a good sign that Mako didn't shrug it off.

"Look, Mako," Bolin began awkwardly, "I know things are hard and everything. You working all the time and the crops failing- look, I get it. I really do. But moving isn't going to really help us or anything, you know? We belong here, we know people in this village. And, besides, if we move, how is Dad ever going to find-"

Mako suddenly shifted away, causing Bolin to wobble on the spot, trying to catch his balance before falling down. He avoided landing in the river by twisting out of the way at the last minute. Mako didn't turn around at the sound of Bolin's groaning. Instead he merely contented himself on watching the progress of the river.

"Dude, what was that for!" Bolin snapped, rubbing arm where it had scraped against a rock. "Look, would you just cut it out and tell me what's-"

"Dad's dead."

"-the matter and-" Bolin stopped, his brain suddenly registering Mako's words. He stared at Mako. His expression was one of unfathomable smoothness. Their mother used to joke that Mako would one day become Pai Sho champion with just his game face. But Bolin knew that Mako was not playing games at the moment. He was dead serious.

"Dad…." Bolin couldn't bring himself to say it. He tried again, "Dad's… what- how did you-"

"Iriah told me," Mako answered shortly. "She showed me his article. The one he wrote to us about in his last letter."

Bolin was speechless. The sudden flood of information was staggering. It seemed incredible that after all those months of trying to find a shred of evidence on their father's whereabouts and a magician aboard a traveling circus had the gall to pronounce their father dead? But it was more than that. What really twisted Bolin's insides was not the fact that a complete stranger had voiced this conclusion – they'd endured much worse from gossiping neighbors – but that Mako, the one who had always held steadfast in their father's return – would believe so willingly.

"He's gone, Bolin," Mako turned to face his brother who stood stalk-still, eyes wide with shock. "Dad's not coming back. He never will."

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><p>Iriah sat on her bed alone and lost in thought. She was supposed to be prepping for her new magic trick scheduled for the next day but all thoughts were of Mako and his father, a man she'd never met.<p>

"_I'm sorry, Mako."_

Iriah had meant what she had said but couldn't help but wonder if it had been the right thing to say. She could've given him hope, the kind she had harbored in her heart a year ago when she had convinced herself that her father was still alive, that he was breathing somewhere in the city, gagged and tied up, starved and weak, on the brink of oblivion, but still alive. That hope, she realized later, had been the undoing of her. Blinded by that false hope, she had made new enemies, those who not only dogged her but her friends and relatives. In the end her selfish quest had only confirmed her fears. Her father was gone, and so she had told Mako the truth. There was no room for false hope. You could only move forward, not back.

A loud banging on the door brought Iriah out of her reverie. It was nightfall and she hadn't been expecting any visitors. Guessing that an irate Shadow had decided to renege on their deal to allow the brothers off with a slap on the wrist, Iriah steeled her composure for her least-favorite clown and unlocked the door.

The person on the other side had been flattened against the door, pounding with their fists held high. As Iriah pulled the door open, a young man toppled inside, jumping to his feet at once and glowering malevolently at Iriah as though she had eaten his firstborn. It was while before she recognized the angry face of Bolin.

"What did you tell him!" Bolin roared, jabbing a finger at her. Iriah got the distinct impression that, had he been taller, Bolin would have grabbed her by the lapels with great force. As it were, his finger was the most threatening gesture he could pull on her at the moment. "What did you tell my brother!"

At the mention of his brother, Iriah realized what this all about. She mentally smacked herself on the head. How could she have been so stupid as to think Mako was the only person to be affected by all this? Of course, it had completely slipped her mind that other members of the family might not be too keen on hearing that sort of news from a complete stranger let alone someone who created illusions for a living.

"What do you think you're playing at! You've made him think our father's dead! Who do you think you are, huh? ANSWER ME!" Bolin roared, his spittle flecking Iriah's spotlessly ironed silk shirt.

"Calm down, would you," Iriah said, trying to back away and calm Bolin down at the same time. "Look, he's the one who found out and-"

"Found out what?" Bolin roared, standing tiptoes the better to stare at her with as much venom as humanly possible. "A couple of newspaper clippings? Who do you think you are!"

Anger pulsed through Iriah's bloodstream. She knew this kid had no idea what he was talking about, that he was just angry like she'd been. In fact, even as her fury built, she knew that Bolin's reaction was nothing to what hers had been like. Iriah still remembered the frightened expression of the police officers who had delivered the news when she had blown half the sitting room to smithereens. She remembered what it had been like to be told that your father was gone and there was no use kidding yourself.

"You wanna know who I am?" Iriah spoke before thinking. Her emotions were driving her and she surprised to find her voice was steady and strong. "I'm the person who tracked him down."

"Tracked? Wha- you found our dad?" Bolin spluttered. He hadn't been expecting this.

Iriah shook her head, feeling both deadly calm and regretful at the disbelieving look on Bolin's face. She had every reason not to tell him. But the same reasons had never stopped her from pursuing the truth.

"Not your father," Iriah paused before saying, "I tracked down the man who killed your father. The man who killed _our_ fathers."

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	9. The Champion's Daughter Part 1

A/N: Apologies to the **horrible** quality of chapter eight. I know it's an abomination; I wrote the darn thing. I'll be uploading a spruced up version in the near future.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: The Champion's Daughter Part 1<strong>

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><p>Despite what many people thought, Bolin was not an idiot. A little too optimistic, naïve, goofy and forgiving, he still was not stupid. As far as he was concerned, there was a fine line between foolish optimism and just plain foolish. There were times, however, when he wished he were stupid just to make things simpler.<p>

For instance, the fact that Bolin wasn't an idiot hadn't made is any easier growing up with his older brother. Mako was always very caring and looked out for Bolin even after their younger siblings arrived on the scene but Bolin couldn't say without a certain amount of guilt that he had done the same for Mako.

One thing Bolin always felt sorry about what the fact that he hadn't done more to help his brother when he was being bullied by the village kids. Of course, Bolin had tried a few times. He had picked fights, exchanged curse words not meant for their mothers' ears, and bloodied a few noses but it was all to no avail. In fact, even before Bolin came home one day with a broken arm (no one believed his lie that he had tripped), Mako had made it clear that he didn't want Bolin to stick up for him. It was never a matter of personal pride (although Mako had plenty of that) so much as Mako's dislike of fights in general, especially when it meant his little brother got beaten up at his expense.

So Bolin stopped and not for the reasons he assuaged himself with. Bolin, who loved his family, had nonetheless grown tired of taking punches for a brother who never raised his voice, threw a punch or acted normal. Bolin, who reassured himself in later years that it had been Mako's decision and not his, had grown sick of all the times he had to explain to his friends what his older brother wasn't. Mako liked to read by himself instead of playing kickball but that didn't make him a sociopath; Mako actually enjoyed studying for hours on end but that didn't make him a nerd; Mako was the only kid Firebender in the village but that didn't make him a freak. Bolin was done with it all; Mako could stand up for himself if he chose to and that was that.

Barely two weeks later, Mako did choose to stick up for someone. That someone, though Bolin pretended not to know, was their father. As the only full-fledged Firebender in the entire village, their father was a bit of a celebrity. But the Toh Sa Village was a very old albeit a very small town. Whatever had happened in the end, many of the elderly villagers still believed the Fire Nation to be beneath the lowest form of scum to muck up the earth they stood on. Most unfortunately, several of the village children, most of them friends of Bolin, had grown up in families harboring hatred for the Fire Nation and Firebenders in general. One day, when Bolin had been out grocery shopping with their mother, Mako punched a boy for calling him and his father "Fire Nation scum" and, as Bolin later learned, "genocidal maniacs". The term "genocidal" was unknown to Bolin at the time but it left a sick feeling in the back of his mouth one night when he overheard his parents whispering about it in the kitchen.

"_Is that what these people think? That you and our Mako are- are- are murderers?"_

"_Sweetheart, calm down. They're just kids."_

"_Kids? It's not just them, dear, it's their families and – who knows? – their neighbors! Our neighbors!"_

Time swept this 'incident' under the blissful doormat of the past. In time, the village boys moved out or ran away. Mako and Bolin stayed to see their father leave. Bolin never mentioned it, but on the morning their father left, he saw something he doubted his own mother witnessed. Without realizing, Bolin looked into Mako's tearless eyes, the same shade of molten gold as their departing father's, and saw his older brother's heart break. It was then that Bolin wished more than ever that he was an idiot because he could foresee Mako in the future, crumbling away bit by bit, a boulder turning to dusty sand. Pieces of Mako would wash away on an invisible tide, no longer held together by the one person who both related and cared for him.

Perhaps this – the guilt brought on by years of turning a blind eye to Mako's pain – was the reason Bolin decided to practically bulldoze a path to the circus, bang on the door of someone he barely knew, and accost her while half-accusing, half-raving half-formed thoughts in a half-contained fit of rage. But to his credit, this strategy yielded better results than he could have hoped for. Instead of denying anything, Iriah confessed to everything without effort. She also told him everything; every last detail.

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><p>Republic City was built roughly 65 years ago. It was the first ever community to be built with the combined help of all four Nations after the Hundred Year War and thus was much celebrated. First-time visitors were always in awe of the 90-meter statue of Aang, rumored to have been carved by the legendary Blind Bandit herself. The Republic City bridge, a masterpiece of architecture itself, connected the nearest Earth Kingdom mainland and invited all visitors from across the globe. It was a melting pot of cultures, a thick brew of diverse peoples, and of course the birthplace of the enormously popular Pro Bending Games.<p>

Iriah was born and raised within the city. Her parents, a Firebender father and non-bender mother, had moved to the city as newlyweds and were, like many of their neighbors, excited to begin their new life as a family in the glorious city of harmony.

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><p>Bolin watched from a few paces back as Iriah walked over to her dresser and opened every single drawer, one after another. Packed into every single drawer was not a single stitch of clothing but stack upon stack of bound newspaper clippings, tattered books, scraps of paper filled with handwriting, and photographs. Iriah pulled a couple of stacks of this and that from each drawer before kicking them shut, her arms piled high with paper. After she dumped her things on her bed, she started untying the twine on the stacks of newspaper and sifting through the pages.<p>

"What is all that?" Bolin couldn't help asking as the entire bed was systematically covered with various articles and pictures. The nearest one to him was actually framed and, though the glass was quite musty, he could make out the photo to be a family portrait of three. Sandwiched between two people who appeared to be her parents was a much younger Iriah, her eyes glinting even in the colorless photo. She was grinning toothily at the camera.

Bolin picked it up without thinking. The man on Iriah's right seemed familiar although he didn't look like anyone Bolin had come across near home. In the picture, Iriah's father was just as lean and dark-haired as his daughter. With his clean-shaven face and neat clothes, Iriah's father seemed handsome standing next to his daughter with his pretty wife. He was a little stooped in the picture in order to fit within the frame but it was evident that he was a very tall man. His physique was that of a fit person, perhaps a bit muscular underneath his coat, but otherwise a healthy father, a paternal arm wrapped around Iriah.

"Who is this man?" Bolin asked, looking up to find that Iriah was thumbing through a thick wad of photos.

Iriah barely glanced at it before answering, "He was my father. You might have seen him before. He used to be rather well-known pro bending champion."

At Iriah's words, a switch clicked in Bolin's memory and he cried out in surprise, "You're father is the Firebender of the champion team Crash?"

The first letter their father had ever sent from Republic City had contained a carefully folded poster of Team Clash, the then reigning champs of pro bending. Bolin recalled how their father had described it to be "by far the most popular form of entertainment in the city".

Satisfied with her neatly arranged photos, Iriah cleared the rest of the materials onto the floor. Turning back to Bolin who was standing, photo clutched in one hand and both eyes staring at it in awe, she smiled ruefully before answering, "First of all, it's Team _Clash_. Second, he was my father. _Was_."

Bolin looked up, startled. "Whoa, really? I mean, I'm sorry and everything but I guess that explains a lot."

"Explains what?"

"Well," Bolin waved around the cramped caravan car before replying, "you ran off to be a magician because your awesomely cool Dad disowned you, right?"

This was one of those instances where, in hindsight, Bolin thought he might have been a little too hasty when claiming to be "not stupid". Iriah's composure broke as her face flushed with anger and incredulity at Bolin's absolute demonstration of "not stupid" gone terribly wrong.

"My father, awesomely cool though he was, did not disown me. He was _murdered_!" Iriah snarled, steam coiling from her nostrils as her eyes pierced him with a look that spoke mountains of potential violence and torture.

Blushing in embarrassment, Bolin recalled – far too late – what Iriah had said earlier about both their father's being killed by the same culprit. He had been too dazed just by the part about his own father's supposed death.

"Sorry! I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Oh, shut up," Iriah snapped irritably, raking a hand through her short black hair. She picked several articles from the layer of paper covering her bed and waved it at him. "Here, read it," she instructed him.

Bolin hastily took the proffered newspaper clippings and started scanning it as fast as he could. It was a rather short piece despite the fact that it was about a chilling murder smack-dab in the middle of Republic City. The article, dating back a little over a year ago, recounted the story of man found stabbed to death on the streets in the early hours of the morning by a passing drunk. Hastily squashed in the very last line of the article was the murdered man's first name but, as though the writer had been writing in a drunken stupor of his own, left out all mention of his being a famous pro bender.

"Read the next one," Iriah prompted when Bolin looked up in horror.

The second, third and fourth articles were all about riots occurring on the city streets. In chronological order the articles went from "Protestors' Cry for Equality" to "Violent Rioters Subdued by Police". As the last article was dated two months ago, Bolin assumed that the protests hadn't ceased.

"I don't understand…" Bolin said as he scanned each article. "What do all these protests have anything to do with your dad's murder?"

Iriah stood up, her eye full of fire. Bolin had once seen this look before but couldn't recall whether it was his father's or Mako's. Perhaps it was both.

As for Iriah, her height overshadowing Bolin, the answer to his question was concise yet forceful.

"Everything," she said simply.

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><p><em>One Year Ago<em>

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><p>The stadium was enormous. Seats ran a wide oval around the entire place. In the middle was a raised ring where the teams would compete for the championship title, suspended above a pool of water. Once a bender was thrown into the chilly pool, they were out of the match, leaving the other team members to fight on.<p>

Nearly every single seat was packed and exciting chatter surrounded her as Iriah sat, a bag of caramel-coated fire flakes in one hand, a Water Tribe slushie in the other. The seat on her left which was usually occupied by her mother was empty. Despite her mother's enthusiasm for a good pro-bending match, she always found an excuse to be absent when her husband was competing. "What kind of wife encourages her husband to beat the daylights out of a complete stranger?" she once asked.

"LADIES and GENTLEMEEEEN!" the announcer roared. The crowd cheered; Iriah nearly upended her snowcone as she attempted to clap with no hands. "Tonight is our champion match for the title. Please welcome the challenger: TEAM CANNONITE!"

A mixture of ecstatic screaming and booing ensued as three uniformed pro benders entered the arena in the spotlight, waving and pumping fists at their adoring fans. Iriah would have loved to join in on the cheering and booing but her mouth was full of spicy fire flakes and she started to tear up.

"And, tonight's defending champions, give it up for TEAM CLASH!"

As the spotlight trained on three figures, Iriah cheered with the rest, spilling fire flakes everywhere in her enthusiasm as her father, flanked by his teammates, entered the arena, waving up at the stands. Even though she was practically an adult now, Iriah couldn't but act like a hyperactive child high on cactus juice during times like these. She could see her father, a head taller than everyone else and beaming up at her as though he was magnetically attracted to his daughter, a mere speck in a the sea of hyperventilating spectators.

"Each team shall now assume their starting positions… and, when the bell rings, we shall begin!"

There was a tangible tension between the two teams as each pro bender took their place in the arena, two sets of team uniforms, two sets of colored belts marking the bender's respective element, and six pairs of eyes, determined to win the champion title.

Everything seemed to stop, the air became frozen, people held their breaths with their eyes glued to the arena when-

"GOOOOO!" the announcer screamed, the bell clanging in unison.

The match had begun.

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><p>AN: This is going to be a two-part chapter so I'll be uploading the second part later on. Thanks for reading!


	10. The Champion's Daughter Part 2

A/N: Yes! Finally finished this chapter. Whew! This chapter was actually quite longer but I had to cut it short so you might find the ending a bit lacking in detail. But no worries, the next chapter will contain all the nitty gritty details. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own A:TLA or LoK

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: The Champion's Daughter -<strong>** Part 2**

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><p>"That's it! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the winners" – there was a huge intake of breath – "TEAM CLAAAAAAASH!"<p>

The stadium erupted with screams of delight, screams of disappointment and just plain screaming in general to plug in the intervals. With everyone on their feet, Iriah stood up as well. Her height proved useful at times like this. She could easily see above the heads in front of her and she clapped her now free hands until they were sore, whooping and cheering as Team Clash, her father in the middle, bowed to the audience.

After the enthusiastic crowd had exhausted their windpipes, a mat was brought out for the winning team to stand on during the awards ceremony. Iriah watched in delight as her father took his place in the middle, grinning broadly up at the stands and, like always, pinpointing his only daughter in the sea of faces as though she were the only source of light inside a pitch-black cave.

Confetti rained down from the ceiling as three women wearing skimpy dresses (the male crowd did not fail to notice this) each carrying a golden champion belt over her head. Iriah had become so used to seeing her father's belt at home that she knew what it looked like without binoculars. Each belt was woven from finely spun black silk. In the middle there was a thin plate of gold crafted by one of best metalbender goldsmiths in the city. This gold plate was embossed with the shield of pro bending: the head of a roaring lion-turtle surrounded by the symbols of bending, all except for air. For each bender, the lion-turtle's open jaw held a different colored stone; ruby for fire, emerald for earth, and sapphire for water. Iriah watched as the belts were presented to Team Clash. Her father reclaimed his belt, smiled triumphantly and held it high over his head as the thunderous cheers of the spectators rained down on the arena.

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><p>Iriah walked alongside her father in cool night air, laughing as they discussed the match which had ended nearly an hour ago. In the darkness, any passersby would see them as just an ordinary father and daughter on a nighttime stroll. In his casual attire and hat, Iriah's father looked less like a pro bending champion and more like a regular everyday dad.<p>

"I thought you were a goner when that ice spear hit you!" Iriah exclaimed, demonstrating a missile stabbing her shoulder with one hand and staggering around in exaggerated pain. "You nearly lost your balance, and then Boulder III would've nailed you."

Her father laughed the sound reverberating around the empty street. Iriah could no longer hear the chaotic noise of the stadium.

"I was not a goner, Iriah, far from it," her father chuckled, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Iriah didn't mention it but she liked the feeling of his hand on her shoulder. There weren't many people who could reach her shoulder anymore now that she was almost her father's height. Her father continued robustly, "I saw Washu's ice spear before he threw it."

"Oh, is that why you got hit?" Iriah teased him, nudging him in the shoulder. He winced but pretended to groan with indignity.

"Well, I couldn't make it look too easy, kiddo. Where's the showmanship in that? You've gotta give the crowd something to yell about, some pizzazz, you know?" Iriah's father shot a miniature fireworks display from his fingertip as he pointed it into the sky. They stood there in silence enjoying the pretty lights flickering in the dark alley they were now in.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here, eh?" A creepy voice slithered like a snake from the shadows. Iriah jumped slightly as her father turned around to see who had spoken. The alley was plunged into darkness as the fireworks overhead fizzled out.

Iriah's father, moving forward, called out into the pitch-black alley. "Who's there? Show yourself." With a flick of his wrist, a warm ball of flame appeared nestled in the palm of his outstretched hand. The light illuminated the closed shops on either side of them but there was no sign of life anywhere. Bewildered, Iriah watched as her father looked up and down the alley, his light shifted their shadows as it moved.

After an intense moment that felt like a day and a half to Iriah, her father turned to look at her with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Well," he said, clearly confused. "I guess we should get out of-"

Iriah shrieked as something heavy came down on her father's head from behind with a loud _crack_. It knocked him to the ground, extinguishing his light. In the renewed darkness, Iriah couldn't see anything as heavy thuds, like sacks of sand being thrown down from the shop roofs, rained down around her along with the hoarse grunts of men, and another grunt of pain from her father.

"DAD!" she shrieked, darting forward to release her own firepower. To her horror, her arms refused to move. She barely had time to recognize that someone had punched her shoulders from behind before a quick jab to her knee caused her legs to buckle beneath her. She sat like a two-year-old in the darkness, unable to move her arms or legs.

Without warning, the alleyway was bright again. For the split second that it took for Iriah's eyes to adjust to the light, she thought it was her father's. She quickly realized it was not her father's light and was mortified to see half a dozen men dressed head to toe in black and wearing black, two of them holding her kneeling father by the arm, the rest carrying lanterns.

"Let go of him!" she cried, shaken by the sight of her father's face. His nose was bloody and a sizeable bruise was rising on his cheek. His hat was lying crumpled and misshapen where it had fallen. Iriah had seen her father in worse condition after a particularly harrying pro bending match but she had never seen him surrounded by thugs and looking as limp as a rag doll.

It took Iriah a few moments to realize that there was someone standing right behind her. Incredibly, she found that she was unable to turn her head around. Swallowing shallow gulps of the cool night air, Iriah sat in the alleyway, surrounded by black-clothed assailants, her eyes fixed on her limp father's form. Though the rest of his body appeared to be paralyzed from the neck down, his dark eyes were wide and alive, mirroring some of the panic welling up inside of his daughter.

"Sorry we had to drag you into this, sweetheart. We didn't know scumbags like your old man here could breed…" The serpent-like voice Iriah had heard earlier from the shadows spoke in her ear and, though Iriah could no sooner turn around to face the man than transform into a horse radish, she imagined his face to be that of a two-headed rat viper. The man continued, "So sorry you had to see this."

There was a scraping noise and a hand stretched out from behind Iriah, a hand gripping a sharp blade. Iriah held her breath as the man angled the point of the dagger at her carotid artery, drawing it dangerously close. Trying not to cry or scream in front of her immobile father, Iriah kept her eyes open but could not look away from the ornate handle of what was perhaps the last thing she would ever witness.

"Sshtttmmmpphh!"

Everyone, including the hand holding the dagger, froze at the noise. To Iriah's relief, her father was moving, his arms twitching and flailing awkwardly like a trout flopping around on the ground, his lips twitching, his face contorting as he attempted to speak.

"SSHHTTTMMMFFFF!" He cried through uncooperative lips, his eyes furious and glaring.

After a moment's stunned silence, the man behind Iriah roared with laughter, a terrible crow of mirth which Iriah sincerely hoped was loud enough to draw attention. But the alley was quite empty apart from their assailants.

"Look at that, lads!" the man laughed, still holding the knife to his captive's neck. "He still has some fight left in him! Let's see what this pretentious freak has to say." Pointing with his free hand, he signaled to the masked man on the far left. The masked figure stepped over to her father and, with a carefully placed jab of forefinger and middle finger near the base of his victim's neck, her father's voice seemed to fly back into his mouth. He began to curse and shout, demanding that his daughter be released.

"Shut it, you!" Iriah's captor kicked her in the back. With a cry, she nearly fell forward on her face with no arms to break her fall. "Now, you behave like a good little boy or my hand might just slip." The blade of the dagger dug dangerously close Iriah's flesh.

"Please, I'll do anything! Just let her go!" Her father pleaded.

The man laughed again, a coarse bark that reverberated around the empty alley. His accomplices joined in before the man snapped at them to shut up.

"Yes, you will do anything, that I can assure you," the man drawled, pointing the dagger tip at Iriah's father. "Because I definitely wouldn't want to shed an innocent girl's blood, you know." There was a moment's pause before he asked in a sneaky mock-whisper, "You _are_ an innocent girl, aren't you, sweetheart?"

Before Iriah could retort in a mixture of Firebender slang and choice curse words, her father cried out hoarsely, "She's a non-bender! Don't touch her!"

This bewildering statement silenced Iriah before she could verbally abuse her captor but their assailants, no longer laughing, seemed to be taking this false statement to heart.

"Well then…" the man behind Iriah said softly after a moment's pause, his snake-like voice thoughtful. "That changes things, doesn't it?"

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><p>AN: That was my first ever two-part chapter^^ I'll be back with chapter 11 soon! :D


	11. The Equalist Movement

A/N: This must be a record update for me :DD Enjoy!

Update: The antibenders are Equalists not Equalizers. Sorry about that ^^;

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: The Equalist Movement<strong>

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><p>The sun was low on the horizon outside, a bloody stain upon the purple sheet of sky above. Somewhere, perhaps perched on a ledge right outside the bolted window, a cricket chirped loudly as though begging to be let in.<p>

Inside the caravan car, Bolin was sitting on a three-legged stool. The firebending magician was sitting on the floor, riffling through a sheaf of newspaper clippings and lining them up on the floor so Bolin could see them.

"So your father lied about your being a firebender and those thugs just let you go?" Bolin asked incredulously. "Why? Who were these people? Why did they attack your father?"

"To answer your questions, this is all you need to know," Iriah said, gesturing to the row of newspaper clippings on the floor. "This –" she pointed at the very first in the lineup, "– is the answer to question number one."

Bolin leaned down and picked up the first article. A grainy photo of a man wearing a mask stood on top of a podium surrounded by a sizeable crowd with their arms raised as though they were either cheering in unison or booing the masked man off the stage. A quick scan of the article showed that, someone – presumably Iriah – had circled the reoccurring word "Equalists" with a black pen.

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><p><strong>Riots Continue as Protestors Demand Equality<strong>

Riots in the city escalate as more voices immerge demanding equality between benders and non-benders in all areas of the city. The rioters – mostly non-bender students expelled from Republic City University last month for attacking members of the bender-exclusive sports committee – accuse benders of prejudice, mistreatment, and racism concerning what they have now dubbed _"the non-bender minority"_. As the riots continue, many citizens are finding it increasingly difficult to leave their homes or shops unattended as these self-proclaimed "Equalists" wreak havoc on private properties as well as City Hall, Republic City Park, and, more recently, the Republic City Police Department Headquarters.

"We will not stop until all the bigoted benders in our society are expunged from our once harmonious community!" cried a masked protestor who delivered his impassioned speech amidst a crowd of nearly five thousand supporters of the Equalist Movement. "Republic City was built so all people could come together in a time of peace and togetherness! We will not let these monsters destroy what this city stands for!"

Meanwhile, police officials are working around the clock to detain protestors who lash out in violence at innocent people, non-benders included. Just last week, a thirty-year-old waterbender coming home from work, was assaulted, beaten, and robbed in front of witnesses by a middle-aged man who later identified himself as an Equalist. The man has since been arrested and sent to jail for burglary and assault.

"You have to understand that this rioting isn't helping anyone," said Chief Bei Fong of RCPD. "Some of these people couldn't care less about a fair society. They're just using this movement as an excuse to commit crimes and then blend with the crowd to avoid punishment."

Though some believe that inequality between benders and non-benders has become a serious issue within the community that _(ctd. page 13)_

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><p>"You're saying that these anti-benders, these Equalist people, were the ones who attacked you that night?" Bolin looked up to see Iriah's flash with anger.<p>

"Yes. As you've already read, they attacked us because my father was perceived to be a threat to the Equalist Movement although that was just their cover story." Iriah began to place photographs on the floor in a neat row right above the newspaper clippings. She continued, "The mayor was too afraid to admit it but the movement was a political ploy right from the start; a plot to wipe out the benders and elect a genocidal maniac into office."

There was that word again, Bolin thought, a chill trickling down his spine. _Genocidal_ maniac – but one who objected to bending. The _irony_.

"Then they killed your father just because he was a famous bender? That is…" Bolin paused to search for the right word. "…sick." He finished a little lamely.

It was an awkward feeling, sitting there in front of a person who he barely knew and listening to a very detailed personal account of something so tragically real. Despite having learned many things about Republic City through his father's letters, the riots were something Bolin had never heard of before. And now Iriah, the daughter of a murdered champion pro bender, was revealing all the secrets and laying them out at his feet. It was hard to imagine what she had gone through when she was investigating the Equalists, an anguished quest to get to bottom of her father's murder.

A few minutes later, Iriah finished laying out all the photos and invited Bolin to take a good look at them. Bolin slipped off the stool and examined the black and white pictures one by one. A few of them appeared to be cutouts from magazines while others were genuine photographs, probably taken without the subjects consent as most seemed unaware of the camera.

"This is your father," Bolin said, pointing to the sixth photo in the lineup. The former champion was much older in this photo than that of the family portrait. Although the smiling face and physique had changed little – perhaps a bit more thick-set and muscular – crow's-feet had begun to spread out of the corners of his eyes and around his mouth like weeds on a green lawn which put him around middle-age, maybe ten or fifteen years after the family portrait was taken.

Iriah smiled a little sadly at her father's photograph but didn't say anything. To Bolin it was a strange experience to be looking at the photograph of a dead man he had never met yet, through his daughter's words, he felt they had met in a previous life.

Bolin carefully studied every photo after that. He recognized none of the people although some of them might have been famous the way they had appeared in a magazine wearing fashionable clothes and baring their teeth in a superficial attempt at warmth. Most of the people were men though women also appeared in the lineup, some young ladies others middle-aged women with spectacles perched on their noses. The very last one was not a photograph but a newspaper clipping. In light of everything Bolin had learned that day, the headline read like a suicide note.

**Equalist Revolt: Peaceful Protest or Political Propaganda?**

"That," Iriah explained as Bolin picked up his father's article with shaking hands, "was published two months after your father was reported kidnapped. I don't know the official date but –"

"The 2nd of February," Bolin recited robotically, his voice wooden, his eyes disbelieving as they bore into the ink print. His father's words blurred before him and it was a while before Bolin realized that he was crying. As tears trickled down his cheeks, he made no move to wipe them away but made sure they didn't fall on the last relic he had of the man he had dreamed of seeing again. "How come they never told us he was kidnapped?"

Iriah shrugged. "The most likely reason is that they didn't want to. A lot of the mysterious kidnappings and murders were hushed up to avoid a public scare, not that people weren't already afraid of stepping outside their homes." She said this last bit bitterly. "But despite the fact that these protests were happening right outside my own backyard, I had to dig deep – really deep – to get half this information, your father's kidnapping included."

Silence blanketed the two, the only sound being the occasional sniffling of Bolin as he wept, unable to look away from the newspaper clipping. This must have been the confirmation Mako had received when he had first found out. Bolin could not possibly imagine what his brother must have felt when all hope had been stripped from his mind, his heart, and his soul.

"What happened to him?" Bolin managed to choke out. By this time, it was completely dark outside. He could hear the chatter brought by the first visitors of the carnival: lovers, friends, and families.

Family. Could they call themselves that after what had become of their father? Bolin had never felt so broken, so utterly shattered in his entire life. He thought of his siblings and his mother, how devastated they would be to hear this news.

"What happened to him?" Bolin asked again, more firmly when Iriah remained silent.

"I don't know exactly." Iriah stood up as she said this, walking over to open the top drawer of her wardrobe. As she dug around in it she added, "But I have a good idea." Lifting up a false bottom on the drawer, Iriah extracted an envelope which appeared to be blackened at the corners but otherwise unblemished.

"Remember when I told you I tracked down the vermin who murdered my father?" Iriah asked and Bolin nodded slowly. "Well, to be honest I can't say for certain that he was the actual murderer in your father's case but –" Iriah opened the envelope and drew out a folded piece of paper. "when I tracked down the killer, I found this in his house."

Unfolding the piece of paper, Iriah laid it flat on the floor and pushed it forward towards Bolin. Dabbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he placed his father's article beside him and picked up the piece of paper. It turned out to be a long list of names, occupation, and addresses with no title or other clue as to what these people had in common. The handwriting was rather difficult to decipher but appeared to be written in ink of high quality. Near the bottom of the list, Bolin's heart sank and anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach. The name _Kenji Lee_ followed by his job and address.

"The killer went by the name of Goji but I suspect it was just another one of his aliases. He had several," Iriah added. "But when I interrogated him about the list, he confirmed what it was; a hit list of all the people the Equalists had a problem with. Some were opposing politicians, influential benders, police officers, and so on. In many cases, their entire families were taken care of if there were too many benders." She pointed at the row of photos she had lined up earlier. "The list itself was supplied by a secret source within the movement that even Goji didn't know about. But he also mentioned that he wasn't the only assassin the Equalists had on their side."

"But then," Bolin muttered, the color returning to his pale face, "you might have stopped him before my father was killed."

Iriah shook her head sadly. "Since there was a police report released saying that your father was indeed kidnapped, it's possible they wanted to interrogate him first for information. There is always the chance that your father escaped since no body was ever found but…" She trailed off, alluding the obvious.

"But then why wouldn't he have contacted us," Bolin finished for her. Iriah nodded sadly.

Loud chattering, the excited squeals of children and laughter could be heard outside. Apparently the carnival was in full swing. A few minutes later, repeated explosions signaled the start of a fireworks display. Bolin and Iriah sat in silence while listening to the happy people outside, the noise sounding strange to them as though it were being broadcasted from an alien planet.

Slowly raising his head, Bolin's green eyes trained on Iriah's black ones, he asked one last final question. "What did you do to Goji?"

For the first time that evening, Iriah grinned and snorted with laughter as though Bolin had cracked a clever joke. Bolin just stared at her, confusion all over his face.

"You wanna know why I joined a traveling circus?" Iriah asked, snapping her fingers from which red sparks flew. "A traveling circus is quite ideal for hiding. I doubt they ever figured out that the accident was a setup but if there's one thing I've learned while investigating, it's to never assume that a dead man equals a done deal."

Cupping her hands together, Iriah breathed slowly and, like a ghost town rising from the ashes, a miniature scale of Republic City blazed in her hands, the flames forming the bridges and buildings, some of them skyscrapers.

"I'm never going back, Bolin," she said softly as Bolin's green eyes moved from hers to the model-scale version of what used to be her home. "My mother passed away within a year of my father's death so it's not like I have any family there. And anyways –" A downward sweep of both hands extinguished the entire city. " – Republic City is no place for murderers."

Frigid beads of ice seemed to slip down Bolin's back as she said this. Strangely, he also felt elated somehow. At first he thought it was because he was glad Goji had got what was coming to him but he soon realized it was something else that Iriah had mentioned.

"… _quite ideal for hiding… I doubt they ever figured out that it was all setup..._ _a dead man equals a done deal..."_

Bolin nearly fell over in shock, his whole body rigid, head spinning with realization. But it was impossible, wasn't it? He was holding the actual hit list and a police report claimed his father had been kidnapped but there was still something else, something he wasn't quite seeing.

'That's it!' Bolin thought, looking down at the hit list again. 'It's got to be the address!'

Bolin called out a "Gottagothanksferevrithinbye" at top speed to Iriah, dashing from the caravan car and slamming the door shut with his foot in his haste.

Outside, the smell of carnival food hit him full in the face but for the first time in his entire life, Bolin did not stop to investigate the enticing scents or to sneak a bite off an unattended plate. As he cut a path through the crowd of people enjoying the circus, there was only one thing in his mind repeating itself over and over again like a never ending merry-go-round. _Dad's alive, Dad's alive, Dad's alive…_

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><p>AN: I'm so sorry I couldn't include the end of Iriah and her father's story. I also had Iriah's revenge on Goji edited out at the last minute. I just feel that graphic death would give this a T rating at the very least so my apologies to anyone who wanted graphic details on how Goji was killed.

Thanks for reading!


	12. Secrets and Barley Hardtack

A/N: Wow, I'm on a roll! Hope to keep this updating frenzy up as long as possible but we'll see :DD

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or LoK.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Secrets and Barley Hardtack<strong>

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><p>Darkness surrounded the house by the time Bolin reached it, out of breath and clutching a stitch in his side. He had run from the circus straight back home without stopping. By the looks of it, everyone else was asleep. Half torn between the desire to find Mako to tell him about his theory, and making absolutely certain that said theory was accurate, Bolin decided on the latter, creeping past the house and towards the fields.<p>

When their father, Kenji, had been around, he had spent a lot of his time working on manuscripts he'd sometimes send to faraway newspapers and magazines in hopes of getting published. These manuscripts were usually written with an ancient type-writer Kenji had brought along when moving from his native Fire Nation to the tiny Earth Kingdom village. After his departure two years previously, their mother had gathered up all the manuscripts Kenji had been unable to stuff into his bag, and stored the whole lot in a shed near the fields with all the farming equipment.

The shed was in need of a good repair but miraculously still standing after years of wind and rain. It was larger than was strictly needed to hold seeds and tools because it used to be a barn for the animals before the family had decided to sell them all to pay for more land. Careful not to trip in the dark, Bolin approached the shed, something he wouldn't have done on a regular basis five months ago because they had run out of seeds ages ago and the farming tools had only ever been touched by his father. Things had changed since then and Bolin had frequented the shed more often than strictly necessary for someone who'd never needed so much as a tea spoon to plow the earth.

A creaking noise interrupted the silent darkness when Bolin wrenched the door open. Due to the severely rusted hinges, he only managed to get the door halfway opened before it jammed. Bolin slipped inside, leaving the door open to let the moonlight in.

After a moment of groping around in the dark, Bolin found an old kerosene lamp to light the shed. The air inside the confined space was musty, a faintly sour stench causing Bolin to gag. Against one wall, farming tools hung from nails, a layer of dust marking its neglect. In one corner, a cabinet which used to be stocked with bags of seed was standing with its doors open, completely empty except for a single burlap sack lying flat and dejected like a popped balloon.

Picking his way over the hay-strewn floor, Bolin reached the far end of the shed where a small pile of old boxes and crates was stacked against the wall. Setting his lamp on the floor, Bolin moved some of the boxes around until at last, under a mess of torn burlap sacks, he found a bundle of paper tied with string, his father's slanted handwriting visible in the light of the kerosene lamp.

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><p><em>The Next Day...<em>

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><p>"So let me get this straight. We don't know Dad's whereabouts or why he's not contacting us <em>or<em> if he's ever coming back because he's possibly in mortal danger but… he's alive?"

It was early morning and the two brothers, Mako and Bolin, were both shoveling hay into individual cages of the various creatures in the circus animal tent. Because Mako had done such a superb job on making all the repairs for the circus in a remarkably timely fashion, he had offered to help out Bolin fill in all his "volunteer hours" taking care of the animals.

Inside the animal tent, the very air they breathed stank profusely of animal feces mingled with the sour smell of human sweat. Because so many diverse creatures were crammed into one space, the racket was nearly intolerable; monkeys howled, birds squawked, large mammals roared and clawed at the bars of their cages, and Bolin nearly lost his thumb trying to mend the broken bones of a three-eyed cobra-mule.

Despite all this, their aged supervising caretaker – a former zookeeper by the name of Mr. Koi –did not stop to give the brothers a break, even though he himself did not work. So they worked on through what was meant to be their lunch hour, moving clean hay into cages while trying not to get too close to the animals. Undercover of all the noise, Bolin was filling Mako in on all he had learned the previous night.

"Look, Iriah showed me the list that assassin had –"

"You mean the assassin she tracked down and –?" Mako's last words were drowned out by a particularly loud cawing noise from a nearby cage.

Bolin thought for a minute. "Umm… yeah, sure, I suppose. Anyways, Dad was on that list, right?"

Mako nodded as the hairy-bodied crossbreed of two species he couldn't remember lashed out at him behind the cage bars, evidently offended that an intruder had the gall to replace his dirty matted bed with fresh hay. The hairy creature snapped its beak, shrieking and thrashing its scaly tails.

"Yeah, well, there were addresses on those and get this –" Bolin paused to heave more hay into the cage while the animal was busy trying to scare Mako off with its poisonous glare, "– next to Dad's name was the address of that apartment he –"

With a loud CLANG of razor-sharp talons on metal, the boys jumped back as the creature roared in disgust, attacking the freshly placed hay with its beak as though wishing to destroy every last shred of it.

"Can't you make it shut up?" Mako asked his brother, yelling over the increasingly high-pitched shrieks of the hairy animal. As though in answer, the animal threw all four of its powerful scaly tails at the metal bars with the force of a cannonball. The reverberating clang was enough to make Mako's bones shake in unison.

When Bolin finally managed to tranquilize the agitated beast (an exhausting feat that took nearly twenty minutes) the two brothers decided to take a well-deserved break outside in the surrounding woods. After working all morning in a tent full of ear-splitting cries and a terrible stench, both boys found the scent of pine trees and the soft twittering of small birds to be exceptionally relaxing. Unfortunately for them, the subject of their father was still left to be discussed.

"So what were you saying about Dad?" Mako asked, sitting down a fallen log. He had brought with him a bag of barley hardtack and began doling out handfuls to his brother.

"I was saying that the address next to Dad's name was the old apartment and not the new one he moved into," said Bolin, drawing the hit list from his breast pocket and laying it flat against a flat rock imbedded in the forest floor. He accepted a handful of hardtack from his brother, immediately popping them into his mouth.

Propping the open bag of hardtack at his feet, Mako saw that the address was indeed the one their father had lived in prior to his relocation mentioned in the final letter. This news did not cheer up Mako, however, as he looked up at Bolin's childishly happy face.

Mako sighed. "Look, Bolin," Mako said, trying to ignore the ringing sensation that seemed stubbornly rooted in his eardrums from the cacophony of the animal tent. "I'm not trying to be pessimistic or anything but that list really doesn't prove much other than the fact that the assassin had the wrong address the first time around. He could easily have found out that Dad moved but forgot to correct it on here."

"Yeah, well that's what I thought at first. But the thing is, I've found something else," said Bolin and he unfolded a second piece of paper that looked like some kind of registration form which was already filled out in blue ink. "I got this from Iriah first thing in morning when we came here. Take a look at the date the kidnapping report was filed."

A bird chirped on a branch not far above the two brothers' heads as Mako read over the form. It was not much of a report. Judging by the way the ink had blurred in places, he guessed it had been written in a great hurry. The report had been filed by someone whose name was hurriedly scribbled. Mako looked at the date it had been filed and a brief summary of the crime. Explained in sparse detail, a witness who had seen a man matching Kenji's description being taken away in a vehicle wearing masks. What caught Mako's attention, however, was the date the crime had been reported.

"This… can't be right," said Mako slowly, scrutinizing the form. "It says here that Dad was kidnapped –"

" – three days _before_ he moved into his new apartment," Bolin finished for him. Popping another hardtack in his mouth he said through intervals of crunching, "And we know for a fact that he _did_ move because he mentions it in his last letter and, according to the reply we got from Chief Bei Fong, the landlady threw out all his stuff when he didn't to pay his rent."

"But if he wasn't kidnapped, then why hasn't he been seen since the second of February? Why didn't he pay his rent or write to us?"

"There's another thing I didn't understand," Bolin said, speaking quickly now that Mako was catching on. He had also run out of hardtack. "Iriah said that the Equalists most likely targeted Dad because he had written things that could possibly deter their movement. According to those newspaper clippings she had stashed in her room, the movement wasn't as violent and well-known just a year ago. Apparently it escalated in the last few months and that's when all the full-blown riots cropped up. But the shady disappearances and murders started much earlier since Iriah's Dad was killed last year. She also said that all the offender's families were targeted too."

"So he knew we'd all be in trouble if he wrote the article and he did it anyways?" Mako looked both appalled and disbelieving.

"He probably had doubts about it because his acquaintances kept telling him it was okay," Bolin hurried on. "But he must've changed his mind after he sent his letter. So he went into hiding after he reported himself kidnapped by the Equalists."

"That doesn't make any sense," Mako argued, sitting up straighter on his log. The ringing in his ears was no longer the reverberating cage bars but hot blood pounding in his head. "The Equalists would know whether he'd been kidnapped or not. In fact, it would've made a lot more sense to ask the police for help!"

There was a short pause where a bird dropping landed two inches from where Mako was sitting on the log. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, Bolin said, "What if there was a mole within the police?"

There was a moment of silence as Mako let this information sink in. His brain, already a soggy sponge from the overload of conspiracy theory, tried desperately to suck the last bit of information in, but failed. Had there really been a spy within the ranks of public authority, it surely would've been easy for the Equalists to get their hands on the right kind of information needed to create a hit list. As half-baked theories of political spies and contract killers swam around in his confused brain, Mako almost missed what Bolin said next.

"Look, Mako, this is just my theory and I might be completely off. But this is what I think happened to Dad." Bolin cleared his throat before continuing, "Dad finds out he's in trouble so he makes arrangements. He goes to police in disguise or asks his friend to pose as a witness for his own kidnapping to fool the mole. Then, he disappears. So you could be right about the killer not having the first address. That was probably because he hadn't moved yet. But the important thing is, it wouldn't have mattered even if the assassin got the new apartment address because, by the second of February, Dad had gone into hiding. In order to stop the Equalists from targeting our family and to sell his lie sufficiently, he stopped contacting us. Also, by complete coincidence, Iriah killed Dad's would-be killer before he got a chance to find Dad. Mr. Koi mentioned the other day that Iriah joined the circus around the same time he did – which was around the same time Dad went missing. So the Equalists probably think he's dead but Dad's being careful."

Mako mulled this over as he subconsciously picked at the loose bark of the log, the cogs of his mind straining to function properly. Even by fantasy standards, the whole thing was highly far-fetched. Living in the country did nothing to improve one's imagination but this situation – as much as Mako hated to admit – was very real and one that concerned his own father's wellbeing. Bolin's theory made sense in the constraints of what little they knew in a haphazard sort of way but the young firebender was having trouble wrapping his brain around one detail.

"Maybe you are right, Bolin," Mako began, his chest pounding in his chest. "But… we don't have any proof." He held up the crime report form in his right hand. "It's possible that the date on this form is mistaken. I'm not saying I doubt the efficiency of the police down there but –"

Bolin walked over to Mako and sat beside him, avoiding the side with the bird dropping running down the bark. After surreptitiously pocketing the bag of barley hardtack, Bolin said reassuringly, "That's why I saved the best for last."

Bolin slipped slid a single sheet of paper in his brother's lap. Mako stared down at the title page of an old manuscript their father had penned years and years ago. It read "Adventures of Pabu and Norbu: The Hunt for the Missing Button" followed by the their father's name. As one of Kenji's earlier works, it was a running joke in the family that anyone who ever misplaced anything, especially buttons, should kindly ask Pabu and Norbu for their services. Mako raised his eyebrows at Bolin who was looking expectantly at him.

"Bolin, is this some kind of jo –"

In a flash of realization, Mako held up the police form back up to his eyes, staring in utter incredulity at the words inked in blue. Stunned, Mako looked back at his brother who was nodding slowly.

"No way…" said Mako, trailing off.

In hastily scrawled blue ink, the blank space for the witness's name under the form heading, albeit slightly difficult to read, was signed "Mr. Pabu Norbu" and next to that, something that was a circular scribble which, upon closer inspection, strangely resembled a black button.

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><p>AN: I'm really hungry for some barley hardtack right now -_-;; And goldfish crackers...

Ahem. So anyways, please tell me what you thought in your review and in the next chapter I'll hopefully have some action sequences thrown in there instead of all talk. Hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^


	13. Side Order of Deja Vu

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and PMs! You guys are awesome :D Also, I've updated chapter six because of an inconsistency issue that I just realized. Amazing what a walk in the rain can do to clear up your mind ^^

Disclaimer: ATLA and Lok are property of Nickelodeon.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Side Order of Deja Vu<strong>

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><p>Elated though Bolin was over what he considered to be a masterful feat of detective work, he still couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed with the results. Mako, for the most part, seemed to hold faith in Bolin's speculations that their father was still alive but that didn't change the fact that they still could not just go barging into Republic City. In fact, Bolin felt that knowing more did not necessarily bring them any closer to finding their father than they had been a few weeks ago. Worst of all, the reason for it lay in their financial problems.<p>

"We don't have enough money to make a trip to Republic City," said Mako firmly when Bolin suggested they leave to find their father. "We got lucky with this circus job – or at least I did – but it's not enough. We're gonna need supplies for the winter and the debt on the farmland needs to be paid as soon as possible. If we leave now, Mom won't be able to carry on without help."

It was all too true. Their mother, Xiuling, tried desperately to make ends meet by selling homemade bean curd sticks near the marketplace but on most days she had to stay home to take care of Min and Mireu while Mako and Bolin were out working.

That being said, leaving for Republic City on such short notice would surely dent their already precarious financial situation and possibly Xiuling's sanity, which was partly the reason they decided to withhold their speculations from their mother for the time being. Also, even if one of them were to make the trip alone, finding a job wasn't guaranteed, much like the prospect of getting a place to stay for a cheap price. It seemed they would have to postpone the journey for quite some time.

Only momentarily stymied, Bolin tried to coax his older by suggesting alternative situations to their money problems. He was disappointed to find that Mako was less than enthusiastic about most of his ideas. Bolin's last attempt at convincing Mako went down like this:

"We could pay the debt later."

"No, it's already overdue."

"Get a loan?"

"No."

"Steal?"

"NO!"

Though Bolin fully realized their situation, the thought of their father hiding out in some remote slum unable to work and possibly going hungry for days kept Bolin up at night. Mako was troubled by the thoughts too but he at least had a lot of work on his plate to keep him busy during the day whereas Bolin was just a few days short of paying off the damage costs he owned the circus. It wasn't that Bolin hadn't tried to find another part-time job but it was easier said than done. Many people appeared to feel financial strains themselves and were reluctant to hire extra hands. Despite his many remarkable qualities, the young earthbender couldn't sell his usefulness as well as his older brother who knew more about machinery than most of the mechanics in town.

On most days after work, Bolin tried to talk to Iriah again in an attempt to gouge more information on his father, the Equalists, or Republic City in general. Apart from the third topic, it was as though their lengthy chat in the Incredible Inferno's own caravan car had never taken place. Whenever Bolin caught her during breaks between performance practices or on their lunch break, she was adamantly oblivious to anything that concerned the anti-bender movement or Kenji, always checking to see that no one was listening.

"But I know he's alive! I could really use your help," said Bolin one day when he caught her outside while she was taking a break. Her costume was a magnificent scarlet soldier uniform complete with golden epaulets and a regal shield embroidered on the chest.

Iriah looked around to see if anyone was watching before whispering, "Look, Bolin, I did you a favor the other day by telling you everything I know so let's make it even, shall we? I won't stop you from whatever it is that you're planning but please stop stalking me."

With that, she disappeared inside the show tent to resume practicing, leaving a disappointed and slightly frustrated Bolin standing outside alone. He considered following her inside but decided against it. Iriah was right; she had done him a big favor. Without her knowledge, he'd still be waiting for another letter from his father. Bolin also reminded himself that Iriah probably wanted to forget all about Republic City, her last permanent home and the site of her father's murder. And yet she had kept all the research on the Equalists in her room – several drawers-worth at that. Seeing as how it was related to her father's death, however, Bolin couldn't really blame her at all. But it did give him an idea.

Walking back around the main show tent and past the large animal tent where the racket of beasts could still be heard, Bolin walked a few minutes before reaching the long line of caravan cars. He quickly located the Incredible Inferno's and stood just outside it, wondering if he could pick the lock or break in through the window without anyone noticing.

Just when he was about to test the door to see if Iriah had clumsily left the door unlocked (an unlikely scenario but still worth trying), he heard footsteps behind him and then someone cried out in an accusing tone, "I knew I'd find you here!"

Bolin wheeled around, his hands raised in a sign of surrender. He then realized the tall figure immerging from behind the nearest tree was in fact his brother Mako who had disapproval etched in every line of his frowning face.

"Hey, Mako, glad you're here," Bolin said, ignoring his brother's scowl, "I need you to help me break into this caravan."

"I'm not helping you break into anywhere," said Mako testily, scanning the area for witnesses of his own brother's criminal behavior, "Get away from that door before someone sees you!"

Now it was Bolin's turn to wear a scowl as he moved away from the door and walked over to where Mako was standing with his arms crossed. Luckily for them, no one seemed to be around to spot the two brothers standing suspiciously close to a star performer's private quarters.

"What are you doing here anyways?" asked Bolin in a grumpy manner. "Don't you have to work at Mr. Noh's?"

"Mr. Noh went to visit his daughter in Ba Sing Se," replied Mako, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder and steering him away from Iriah's caravan car. They started walking back to the circus fairgrounds, Bolin looking sulky. "I came here to find you in case you got any crazy ideas about clues to Dad's whereabouts. I bumped into Iriah on the way here and she thinks you're stalking her."

"I haven't been stalking her!" retorted Bolin indignantly. "I've just been following her around a bit and… asking her questions she doesn't want to answer."

"Right," said Mako, a little exasperatedly. It was small comfort knowing he had arrived before Bolin could recklessly ransack Iriah's room.

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><p>Mako couldn't trust his brother to remain distracted from his quest to unearth more information on their father's fate so he decided to take him to work. As Mako had expected, the middle-aged lady who ran the custom dress boutique was unenthusiastic about having a unhappy, bare-footed Bolin sitting in the waiting room of her shop.<p>

"Can't your brother wait outside?" asked Madam Fong, her beady eyes almost bulging at the sight of Bolin's dirty feet touching her spotless decorative rug.

"It'll be just this once, Madam Fong, I promise," said Mako, reassuringly. He had experienced first-hand how the dressmaker's obsession with cleanliness could spiral out of control. "It won't take long to fix the sewing machine so we'll be out before you know it."

After the repairs for the sewing machine were finished, the two brothers left the boutique to Madam Fong's ill-disguised relief. Since it was almost dinnertime, Mako suggested they forget about their troubles for a while by going to nearby noodle shop. With much less enthusiasm than usual, Bolin agreed.

The brothers sat at the counter where a few others were enjoying their meals. Once they had finished ordering, Bolin lapsed into silence, wondering when their father's last decent meal had been. Their father had always loved noodles, especially traditional Earth Kingdom fried noodles with vegetables, and Bolin wondered vaguely what sort of noodles they had in Republic City.

To Bolin's right, Mako was trying very hard not to think about the last time they had eaten out as a family. It had to have been a very long time ago, just after Mireu was born. The memory of his father eating dim sum and egg rolls with a contented smile on his face actually made Mako more depressed. Somehow he could not imagine a man eating well while hiding from bloodthirsty killers. Trying to think of something else, Mako looked around at his fellow diners.

A few seats along the counter, two men were eating their noodles with gusto, chatting between gulps. At a corner table sat a young woman with long, pleated hair, her back to Mako. Her companion appeared to be man wearing the hood of his cloak low over his face as though irritated by the light overhead. Behind them sat a party of five men, half of them clearly drunk. They talked and joked in loud voices, toasting each other with half-filled bottles of rice wine before downing the rest in one go. One of the men, whose neck resembled a tree trunk, roared with laughter at a particularly amusing joke.

The man had a messy mullet that looked like someone had hacked the front with an ax before shaving the sides. The back hair was tied up in a ponytail and Mako couldn't help but wonder why anyone would go around with such a ridiculous haircut. This thought might have shown on his face because the man noticed Mako watching. Their eyes met for a split second before Mako hastily looked away from the man's brown ones.

"Oi! You boy!" The man barked, the words slurring slightly. Shoving back his chair with a loud scraping noise, he got to his feet and stood surprisingly steadily for a drunken man. Pointing a finger at Mako's back he yelled again, "Hey, I'm talkin' to you, you lil yellow-eyed freak!"

Everyone froze. The two men at the counter stopped eating abruptly, their chopsticks halfway to their mouths. The people sitting in the corner weren't looking at the man but were silently listening. The rest of the mullet man's companions were also silenced by his loud outburst, all of them staring wide-eyed at each other or at Mako. Bolin was also looking at Mako in a 'what did you do?' sort of expression.

Feeling the need to break the tense moment, Mako got up from his seat and bowed apologetically.

"I'm sorry sir, my mind must have wandered. Please forgive me," said Mako.

The mullet man seemed unimpressed with Mako's politeness and pounded the table with his fist, causing a few bottles to roll over the edge, smashing to pieces on the floor.

"You slimy vermin! You think I'm stupid, do you? You think I don't know what kind of filth you are?" roared the man, pointing a thick finger at Mako's face. Looking around at his dumbfounded companions, he yelled, "Lads, that there is what I call a Fire Nation scumbag."

A look of comprehension dawned on the faces of the man's companions. Even the heavily drunken ones seemed to survey Mako differently, sizing him up as one might appraise a pig-deer for slaughter. One by one, the men slowly rose from their chairs, each grinning maliciously at the amber-eyed firebender.

A familiar sense of foreboding rose inside Mako like bile. For a fleeting moment, he saw the cruel taunting faces of the village boys who had tortured him as child. This time, instead of small children, the faces were those of middle-aged thugs bearing evil grins. Behind him, he thought he heard Bolin draw breath.

"Lads," the thick-set mullet man cried, locking eyes with Mako's amber ones, "let's teach this filthy little freak a lesson."

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><p>AN: The next chapter will contain copious amounts of punching and screaming. I promise this time. Thanks for reading!


	14. Dark Alley

A/N: I am so excited after seeing all the leaks over the weekend! And I finally finished this chapter so enjoy ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Dark Alley<strong>

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><p>Six Years Ago<p>

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><p>Kenji sat at the small kitchen table, manuscripts stacked near his elbows. In front of him was an old typewriter which he had brought along from his native Fire Nation village. It was so worn that the characters on the key presses had been rubbed away with just a few of them surviving due to infrequent usage. The piece of paper in the carriage was resolutely blank as Kenji stared at the blank white surface, willing himself to write the next line, a word, a single letter even.<p>

Just then, the door to the living room creaked open and his oldest son Mako entered with a thick battered book clutched in his hands. Mako had recently turned eleven but was still growing like a weed, taller than most boys around his age. He edged into the room, clearly uncertain whether he should bother his father or not.

"Mako, you're home early," Kenji said, knowing full well that Mako usually spent most of his days indoors reading books. "Shouldn't you be outside playing with your friends?"

A flicker of annoyance passed Mako's face but Kenji barely noticed. He had spotted the title of the book Mako was reading, _Fire Nation History Vol. IV: The Hundred Year War_.

"Where'd you find that, kiddo?" asked Kenji, gesturing to the heavy book.

Relieved that his father had finally taken notice, Mako gingerly placed the book on the table, careful not to disturb the carefully stacked manuscripts. Instead of opening the book, he lightly placed a hand on it before taking a deep breath.

"I've been reading this book," Mako began, lightly patting the worn cover of the history book, "and I've been wondering, Dad, what do you think of the Hundred Year War?"

Kenji looked at his son with some surprise. Though he had recounted countless stories of his childhood years in his hometown, none of his children had ever asked something so specific about his native country, especially not his opinion of the Hundred Year War, the war that had ended so many lives and dreams over a century-long period.

Glancing at the dusty tomb lying innocently on the table, Kenji decided to try a different tactic instead of honestly answering.

"Well, Mako, you've read the book so why don't we hear what your opinion first?" suggest Kenji, trying to gauge the reason his son was asking such a sensitive question, though he did have his suspicions.

Mako looked slightly taken aback at his father's request but, after a momentary pause, said carefully, "I thought it was terrible how all the airbenders were killed. All of them except Avatar Aang, I mean."

Kenji nodded. His son had definitely read the book cover to cover. There was no way the tiny one-room schoolhouse in the neighboring town would go into specifics about the Hundred Year War. Not even in the Fire Nation schools did they mention the gruesome airbender massacre to a bunch of children. At least, not in _his_ days.

"I think so, too, Mako," agreed Kenji. "It was a terrible thing. But you know how it ended right? Fire Lord Ozai was defeated by Avatar Aang. Then he and Fire Lord Zuko created the United Republic Nations."

Mako nodded but still seemed uncomfortable about something. Kenji waited for his son to ask the question he himself had asked at a much older age.

"But… See, Dad… Weren't the Fire Nation… evil for doing all those things?" asked Mako, not quite meeting his father's amber eyes which were the exact same color as his own.

Kenji sneaked a glance at his still stubbornly blank piece of paper in the typewriter carriage then looked back at his son who appeared half-afraid of the answer his father would give. Despite trying to be a supportive father – especially when it came to education – Kenji wasn't at all thrilled to discuss the moral implications of the war his people had caused more than sixty years ago, at least not with his eleven-year-old son. Unfortunately for him, Mako happened to be incredibly persistent when it came to books and things he did not understand. It was more than likely Mako would not budge until Kenji gave him a satisfactory answer. Kenji inwardly sighed, trying his best to answer like a kind, understanding father would.

"The thing is Mako, it's true that the Fire Nation was responsible for attacking the Air Nomads and causing the Hundred Year War," he began. "But you have to remember that most of the responsibility falls to the leaders who decided to attack in the first place. While Fire Lord Ozai as well as his father and his grandfather were terrible people, that doesn't make all people from Fire Nation evil." He paused. "After all, the person who helped to end the war and also create the United Republic Nations was none other than Ozai's son, the celebrated Fire Lord Zuko. I promise you that the Fire Nation of today has long since learned its lesson and they're no more threatening than you or me."

Mako didn't say anything and stood silent, staring into his father's eyes. Kenji could not tell what his son was thinking but he now had a question he wanted to ask Mako.

"Why did you want to know about this, Mako? Did you learn this in school?" asked Kenji, glancing at the book. He now remembered that this thick tomb was one of his college course books from his one year at Ba Sing Se University. Though he distinctly remembered stashing it somewhere with a lot of his older works, Mako must have come across it in his never-ending search for more reading material, something that their tiny Earth Kindgom village severely lacked.

Mako averted his gaze and shrugged nonchalantly. "No, it wasn't during class. I just heard some kids talking about it and I got… got curious," he mumbled, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the cover of _Fire Nation History Vol. IV: The Hundred Year War_.

"Really?" said Kenji with a slight sinking sensation in his heart. "What did the kids say?"

For a split-second, it appeared Mako was about to burst out with an incredibly detailed account of what the boys had said about the Hundred Year War but then the moment passed and he sighed slowly.

"Nothing," answered Mako, and this time, he looked straight into his father's eyes, staring into the depths of amber as though looking in a mirror. "They just mentioned the war in passing."

Kenji nodded; secretly relieved though in the back of his mind he knew Mako was hiding something. But Kenji had a manuscript to finish and Mako was already picking up the heavy book off the table. Without another backward glance, the eleven-year-old made his way over to the open door leading to the living room, swaying slightly underneath the weight of the dusty tomb, and left the kitchen.

After a moment's pause, Kenji returned to the typewriter, contemplating the empty white blank that seemed to taunt him. Unknown Kenji, Mako was also being taunted though not by the inability to fill empty space. He was taunted by the knowledge of the Hundred Year War and the fact that the stories the children told about his ancestry were not fictional at all.

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><p>Present Day<p>

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><p>The merchants of Shin Ren Town observed the painfully empty streets, the thin trickle of customers slowly examining each potential purchase at a snail's pace before moving on. As one man yawned behind his hand, the many boxes of apples lying unsold at his feet, he saw a commotion up the street, his fellow merchants' heads all swiveling to see what it was.<p>

It was a strange sight. Two teenagers, one incredibly tall and the other stout, sprinted at breakneck speed through the marketplace followed by a small group of burly looking men, all baring their teeth. The man leading the group was the thickest of the bunch, the veins on his neck bulging as he rampaged past the merchants, his strange haircut drawing more attention than the racket they were all making as they chased the two boys through the market.

After a while, the angry shouting of the burly men died away and the merchants shrugged and went back to their work, trying to sell their products with barely a handful of customers.

* * *

><p>It was growing steadily darker as the brothers sprinted down the road. Mako ran, his lungs moments away from bursting, trying not to think about what the men would do if they caught up. Bolin was compensating for his shorter legs by earthbending the ground to propel himself forward but, as the earthbender had been forced to skip dinner, he was much too drained to help his brother as well.<p>

They made it out of the marketplace and dashed along the mostly empty street of Shin Ren Town's residential area, scanning the road up ahead for a place to hide. The houses lining the side of the road seemed deserted as most of the residents were either at the marketplace or the circus, enjoying a fun-filled time that did not include being chased by brutal thugs.

Mako and Bolin cut a corner. Spotting the mouth of a narrow alleyway, Mako grabbed his panting brother by the shoulder and pulled them both into the alley and squatting behind a barrel.

Outside on the streets, the rampaging footsteps halted, the threatening shouts of the thugs utterly bemused. One of them bellowed angrily, "Where'd they go? They were just 'ere!"

Just inside the alley, the Mako had one hand clamped over his brother's mouth to stifle his heavy panting while he strained his ears to hear any signs of the thugs approaching. He sincerely hoped that the much darker alleyway and the alcohol level of the men would render the brothers invisible to their eyes should they choose come this way. However, the worst case scenario always seemed to favor Mako in such desperate times so he wasn't too optimistic.

The men continued talking, the words incoherent from where Mako and Bolin were hiding. To Mako's relief, however, the tone of their collective voices seemed to be that of growing frustration. Either the men could not spot the alleyway or they were still debating which way to go.

"Oi, enough of this!" shouted the unmistakable voice of the leader. Mako gulped as the gruff voice continued, "Those bloody vermin couldn't have got far. You three go that way. Me and Kun here will take the alley."

Swearing inwardly, Mako tried to collect his thoughts. There was no way they could climb up to roof without being seen and dragged down by the feet. He doubted they could make a clean escape out the other end of alleyway before the thugs got any closer either. As the gears in his brain meshed haphazardly, trying to conjure up an escape plan that did not exist, the unmistakable footsteps of the thugs drew nearer and nearer.

Bolin, his brother's hand still clamped firmly over his mouth, considered fighting. Theoretically he and Mako could take one opponent each. With a bit of hypothetical luck, they might just be able to slip away after landing a few punches. But the idea, purely thought up out of sheer desperation, collapsed under the brutal reality that the two brothers had never trained for a fight before. The most earthbending Bolin had ever done usually had something to do with farming, hardly lethal unless he was serious about destroying the entire alley and the houses on either side. Mako, having had absolutely no training for the past two years, was rarely known to use his firebending other than to weld steel and perhaps start a kitchen fire.

When the footsteps seemed just a few paces away, Mako removed his hand from Bolin's mouth and held up three fingers. When Bolin nodded, Mako counted down to three on his fingers before –

"Arggh!"

The man in the lead, an ugly brutish fellow with curls who had been addressed as Kun, doubled over as Mako sent the barrel flying at the thugs' knees. The curly-headed man tripped, banging his head on a wall and yelling in pain. The man with the mullet hair avoided barrel and instead threw a series of sharp knives at the brothers who through themselves sideways to avoid being hit.

"Take that!" shouted Bolin, stomping the ground and, with a steady punch, sent a block of solid rock sailing at the men's heads.

To Bolin's astonishment, the leader performed an easy backflip, avoiding the rock which sailed over his head and out of sight. He then countered by sending another knife flying in Bolin's direction. Bolin created a barrier just in time which blocked the knife from making contact with his face. Mako kicked a stream of fire at Kun who dived sideways.

"I'm outta here!" cried Kun when a solid stone spear narrowly missed his head. Stumbling over his feet, the curly-haired man fled the fight, leaving the other behind. To the mullet man's credit, he seemed quite oblivious to the fact that his companion had just ditched him and kept up his end of the fight as though he had entered the foray on his own.

Secretly glad that they had one less person to deal with, Mako repeatedly punched the air, fireballs shooting from his fists and zooming like bright comets down the alley. With a savage roar, the man dodged the first two fireballs but seemed to hesitate when the second round of punching came rocketing toward him.

_SWOOSH!_

Just as Mako thought the fight was over, their opponent literally extinguished the fireballs with a series of knife-hand blocks and, with an angry growl, roundhouse-kicked the last fireball into curls of smoke.

"You're a firebender?" asked an amazed Bolin, dropping the block of stone he had been about to hurl. "Then why the heck are you attacking Mako?"

The mullet man wiped his mouth, breathing heavily though not from exhaustion. He looked furious – perhaps even murderous – his black eyes boring into Mako's amber ones as though hoping his poisonous gaze would somehow harm the golden-eyed teenager.

"I ain't fighting you because you're a firebender, son," said the man coldly, "Me and you, we're different, very, very different. For one thing, Old Yongzheng here ain't a yellow-eyed freak like Fire Lord Zuko." He spat at the ground in disgust.

"Fire Lord Zuko?" repeated Mako, quizzically. "But he wasn't a bad person, he was against the war. He helped create the United Republic Nations."

Yongzheng grunted with laughter, clearly amused by Mako's schoolboy recital of Fire Nation history.

"Helped? _Helped_?" he repeated, a menacingly look on his face. "He did more than help, son, he founded the wretched place, didn't he; The United Republic of Nations and, more importantly, its capital, Republic City."

Both Mako and Bolin's blood seemed to run cold at Yongzheng's words. Barely a week had passed and yet another firebender was expressing hatred about a city where Kenji had disappeared. The brothers had both assumed the thugs to be regular Firebender haters but this assumption was turning out to be false. Was it possible that this man, who seemed so deteremined to hurt them, hated the city for the same reason Iriah did? Did this have something to do with the Equalists?

Yongzheng continued, still addressing Mako, "There's a reason the four nations kept to themselves, son. Benders of different elements were never meant to mix. But that didn't stop the _great_ Fire Lord Zuko and his old pal Avatar Aang from breaking that balance."

The night was really closing in now. Darkness was falling rapidly and in the alleyway, Bolin could barely see the outline of the man, still staring darkly at the Mako who was standing right next to Bolin. A strange, eerie silence seemed to fill the air like mist, trapping them all in its haze.

"Never been to the United Republic, have you lads?" asked Yongzheng, his face leering out of the gloom, but just barely. "Chaos, it is. Utter destruction. And all because of one scumbag Fire Lord and, of course, his idiotic Fire Nation supporters."

Bolin chanced a sideways glance in the dark, a careless move on his part. In the split-second he took his eyes off Yongzheng, the man firebended a whip of flame straight at Bolin who was too slow to block it. With a cry of pain, Bolin stumbled backward, clutching his left shoulder which was badly burned.

"Bolin!" cried Mako, taking a worried step toward his brother though at the same time keeping an eye on Yongzheng who was laughing, a cruel mirthless bark in the dark alleyway.

"Now that the little earthbender is out of the game, I can get what I came for," said Yongzheng in a low, dangerous voice.

Though Mako could barely make out the shadowy outline of his foe, he thought he saw the man grin a terrifyingly smile, a smile a venomous serpent would adopt before swallowing his prey whole. Without warning, Yongzheng shifted his stance and punched once, sending a stream of hot flames where Mako's chest would have been had he not ducked in time, pushing his brother to safety as he did.

Mako jumped back to his feet, leaving Bolin on the ground groaning with pain. The fear in Mako's mind had tripled in the last few seconds. It was obvious that Yongzheng, despite his hatred for the Fire Nation, was an incredibly gifted and powerful firebender, easily surpassing Mako who hadn't properly trained in the last two years.

Trying not to betray the terror constricting his chest, Mako stepped in front of Bolin who was clutching his wounded shoulder and shouted out with more courage than he felt, "What do you want?"

The answer came ready and as cold as ice.

"Agni Kai."

* * *

><p>AN: Oooh, now I've done it. How am I supposed to write an Agni Kai scene? Only one way to find out :D


	15. Agni Kai

A/N: Thanks for everyone reading so far guys! Here's the next chapter. Enjoy~ ^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Agni Kai<strong>

* * *

><p>Earlier That Day...<p>

* * *

><p>The dramatic beating of drums and trumpets filled the tent as Iriah walked across a tightrope 15 meters above the ground with a burning sword in one hand, her free hand clawing at the air. On the other end of the tightrope was Bing Su who was wearing a dazzling dress of deep blue and matching silk slippers. Unlike Iriah who walked haltingly and gingerly, Bing Su seemed to glide through the air, turning and stepping lightly as though on firm ground.<p>

As the drumming reached a climax and the trumpets blared loudly below, Iriah made a misstep and dropped the sword which spun to the ground. Missing the safety net by inches, it hit floor where an assistant standing guard extinguished it. Up above, Iriah wobbled on one foot, rotating her arms comically in a vain attempt to keep balance but then fell head first down to the safety net where she lay on her stomach, her face digging into the squares of the net twine.

Shadow, who had been directing the performance from below, called for a break in order to scold the Incredible Inferno for yet another failed attempt on the tightrope. Iriah, not wanting to make it any easier for the insufferable clown, did not get up from the safety net but instead lay there motionless, fuming at her humiliating failure and the redundant lecture that was to follow.

"Inferno!" snarled Shadow who was standing on the top-most rung of the ladder that led up to the safety net. "Get off the net right now!"

Iriah ignored this last bit and sighed, peering through the net below her where a mattress was laid out. She started counting the seconds in her head, trying to see if her disobedience would goad the ringmaster into climbing onto the net to pull her out by the ankles.

"Inferno, get up this instant!" hissed Shadow again, not moving from the ladder and instead addressing the backside of Iriah who was lying very still. "This is the fifth time you've fallen off the tightrope! Get it together or –"

"Oh, give her a rest, Shadow, honestly!" At the bottom of the ladder stood Bing Su who had just climbed down from the other side, looking pristine and unruffled as ever. Her flawless features were slightly marred by the fact that she was frowning disapprovingly up at Shadow who returned the look from above.

"Miss Bing Su, might I suggest you ready yourself? We'll be continuing again just as soon as I get this clumsy cretin up." Shadow tried shaking the net as though hoping Iriah would flop out of net like some dejected fish. She didn't budge.

Bing Su shook her beautiful head and said, "No, no, that's quite enough for today. She only started the tightrope this morning and she's made tremendous progress."

"Tremendous progress?" repeated Shadow incredulously, looking down at Bing Su again. "Falling off over and over again is your idea of progress? Miss Bing Su, you might be excellent on the tightrope, that I know, but you're clearly deluded if you think that Inferno's performance is anything more than an utter disaster!"

"Is that so?" asked Bing Su, her voice suddenly cold. "Well then, I guess you could teach her yourself if you think my methods are such a disaster!"

"That's not what I –"

"Then this is it for today, Shadow, and not another word. Tell the others to leave. We've been here all day!" And with that, Bing Su turned heel and walked away, still managing to make her heated exit look dainty and graceful.

After ten more minutes of empty threats and yelling, Shadow gave up on Iriah and told everyone to get lost. Some of the younger staff members dropped whatever it was they were holding and practically fled the main show tent, such was the vehemence Shadow exuded when he wasn't acting like a regular children's entertainer. Iriah lay on the net for a few more minutes until Shadow exited in a huff, then slowly crawled toward the ladder and climbed down.

Half an hour later, Iriah found herself sitting in front of her vanity mirror, staring glumly at her reflection while Bing Su reapplied her makeup next to her. She'd been practicing nearly all day and her scarlet uniform was soaked through with sweat. Normally, stage costumes were only worn during the practice directly preceding the live show but Shadow, thinking that costumes would help Iriah get into character, had insisted on it. Now the left sleeve was torn from one of her messier falls and Iriah doubted whether it would last another day.

"Don't feel so down about it, darling," said Bing Su as she powdered her nose. "Shadow's out of it as usual. He knows full-well that you've never had any experience on a tightrope and these things take time."

This was mostly true. Iriah had pointed this out to the pompous ringmaster that very morning when he had proposed the idea but he had ignored the fact completely, merely instructing her to "pick it up" as soon as possible while practicing her firebending illusions at the same time.

The whole thing was complete nonsense and Iriah still felt queasy from repeatedly falling from a dangerous height, sometimes nearly burning herself with the flaming sword when she had to make an unexpected plunge to earth. Bing Su, who was a trained acrobat as well as a dancer, had no problem whatsoever on the tightrope but found it exceptionally difficult to train Iriah who couldn't understand why Shadow wanted to do a show where a magic act took place in the air.

"I can't believe this is our next season's main act!" muttered Iriah, clenching her fists. "He even got Bolin to pay off that smashed cabinet and he's not even going to let me use it anymore."

"Bolin?" repeated Bing Su absentmindedly as she applied more blush to her already rosy cheeks.

"You know, that earthbender kid who interfered during my show once."

"Oh, yes, him," said Bing Su, turning her face so as to examine her makeup from different angles. "He must have a crush on you, Iriah. I've seen him following you around everywhere."

"Yes, that must be it," agreed Iriah noncommittally. Most of the other circus staff had left the changing room. There were just three people left: Bing Su, Iriah, and an assistant who was tidying up the clothes racks behind them.

"We should really do something fun this evening, Iriah," said Bing Su once she was satisfied with her blush. "It's been ages since we did something on the fly."

"And this coming from a circus performer? I'm really worried now," answered Iriah in a mocking tone.

"Oh, don't be like that. Why don't we eat out tonight?"

"I'll pass. I don't want to be noticed outside the circus, thanks."

"Now, Iriah, I insist. We'll just grab some dinner and come back. What do you say?"

No one could never resist Bing Su's requests for very long. It was like an unwritten rule in the circus – perhaps the entire world – that everyone agreed to do whatever it was she asked in the end. That was how it was for Bing Su. Iriah couldn't help but wonder how much easier it would be if life gave _her_ everything she wanted. But instead of declining the dinner date, she relented and soon was dressed in regular attire for their little outing.

"Hold on a second," said Irah when Bing Su was about to leave. Stepping back to the costume rack, she picked out a long dark cloak and threw it over her shoulders much to Bing Su's dismay.

"I don't want people to see me, okay?" said Iriah flatly and, for once, Bing Su did not press the matter.

* * *

><p>Present Time<p>

* * *

><p>"Ag-Agony what?" Bolin managed to ask through gritted teeth as fought to keep a cool head. He could feel his burn as though it were a pulsating creature, making him half afraid to take a good look at the damage.<p>

"I challenge you to an _Agni_ Kai, boy," repeated Yongzheng. "The traditional way of eliminating an unworthy firebender." He then laughed as though the very sound of his voice was humorous.

Mako's heart thudded loudly against his ribcage, all the blood rushing to his head. Having known only one other firebender for most of his life, Mako had never engaged in a fire duel before. He had been a part of his fair share of fistfights but a full-fledged Agni Kai was something he had only read about in dusty books.

Even to the people of the Fire Nation Agni Kai was considered an outdated method of coup d'état, bordering on barbaric. If an Agni Kai ever took place at all nowadays, it was usually a staged act used in traditional ceremonies. But this was no act and Mako's challenger was dead serious. However, the teenage firebender could not possibly imagine how he could avoid it.

"I accept on one condition!" shouted Mako, inwardly pleased that his voice did not tremble.

"What?" cried Bolin, flabbergasted. "Mako, what're you –"

"What would that be?" growled Yongzheng, ignoring Bolin.

Mako squinted in the dark. Some time had passed since entering the alley and his eyes were now adjusting to the lack of light. He could see Yongzheng's face leering out of the gloom, his stance slightly leaning forward, ready to pounce.

"My earthbender companion leaves right now," said Mako loudly, choosing his words carefully in case their blood ties interfered with Bolin's safe escape. His wording did not go unnoticed by Bolin but the burned shoulder kept him from proper speech.

Yongzheng seemed to find this gesture of chivalry to be almost as ridiculous as most people thought of his mullet and let out a gruff guffaw.

"Fine, then," said Yongzheng, pointing a finger at Bolin who was crouched on the ground. "The earthbender leaves."

Bolin slowly got to his feet, his teeth clenched against the pain his shoulder was causing him. He looked at Mako who seemed quite unshaken at the prospect of fighting a dangerous madman one-on-one. Bolin could do nothing to help, however, his shoulder preventing him from moving without wincing.

"Just go, Bolin, go," said Mako quietly, moving to hide his brother from view. These words did not go unheard from Yongzheng who laughed again, though he did not say anything.

Wishing more than anything that he could earthbend a brick into Yongzheng's open mouth, he turned and quickly ran toward the other end of the alley. He felt like a total coward with every step that he took, leaving his brother and their assailant behind. But the only help he could offer Mako now was to find someone – anyone – to intervene. His left hand felt for the walls as he ran faster and faster, praying that he wasn't already too late.

Bolin's ragged breathing and heavy footsteps faded behind Mako who stood stalk still, facing the formidable man in front of him. For a split second, Mako considered making a run for it now that his brother had escaped. But the dark alley seemed to engulf him, trap him in its gloomy folds and bind his feet to the spot, forcing him to carry out his part of the bargain.

"And now," said Yonzheng, flexing his muscles and stretching his legs, "we begin."

* * *

><p>If someone had told Iriah that "grabbing some dinner" included watching two teenagers being chased out of a shop by a group of grown men and then being dragged along herself by her own dining companion in order to somehow aid and assist said teenagers, she would've locked herself in her caravan until the following morning.<p>

Most unfortunately, no one was prescient or kind enough to warn the young magician of such a weary turn of events. As she sprinted down the street beside Bing Su, keeping one hand on her hood to keep it from slipping off, she couldn't help but feel exasperated that these things kept happening to her. Was it too much to ask that a circus magician live a mundane, peaceful life?

Far ahead, the two teenage boys, Mako and Bolin, were leading the strange stampede through the marketplace. The thuggish men were hot on their tail, however, and the two girls were falling behind in the ludicrous race to nowhere. To make matters worse, night was falling and Iriah had barely eaten her noodles before she was rudely pulled from her chair by Bing Su to participate in the chase. As she ran, her stomach grumbled loudly.

"Where'd they go?" panted Bing Su as they reached an intersection. There seemed to be no one dashing down the main road. Next to them was a lane leading into the residential area of Shin Ren Town, comprising mostly narrow alleyways sandwiched between dilapidated houses.

"Maybe we should wait and see who comes out," suggested Iriah feeling incredibly hungry.

At that very moment, a rumble of disgruntled voices came from somewhere near them. It seemed to be coming from down one of the side streets but it was clear that they were the voices of the men, not the teenagers.

"This way!" Bing Su did not wait for Iriah to respond before dashing down one of the lanes, her handcrafted heels clicking on the slate road. Sighing heavily, Iriah followed her down the lane, unable to dismiss the fact that her friend had just raced down a market street in high heels.

* * *

><p>Firebending was never something Mako particularly enjoyed. Of course, the skill had come in handy during times when he had to fix something and a little welding was required or when he needed to make a portable flame to warm his hands. But the truth was that living in a rural Earth Kingdom village hardly necessitated the use of such a skill, and in Toh Sa Village, firebending was regarded with wariness if not downright dislike. Because being a firebender was not a useful party trick you could use to win friends in his neighborhood, Mako had even considered forgoing the chance of learning the art when he was younger.<p>

Kenji thought differently. When he found out that his firstborn was a firebender, he took it upon himself to teach the youngster everything he had learned in the Fire Nation. Though Mako shied away from the task at first, he quickly gave into his father's demands and began his training near the mountainous areas around the village where he wouldn't burn anyone and – more importantly for Mako – where no one would see him firebending.

In hindsight, Mako couldn't help but feel both grateful and a little frustrated at his childhood firebending training. The disappointment came swiftly with awful realization and fear when Yongzheng made his first move. Thrusting his fist forward with a mighty roar, a fireball as big as his head came flying at Mako who had no choice but to throw himself sideways to avoid the attack. As well-meaning as Kenji had been, he could never have imagined that his son would duel a skilled firebender in an alleyway at nighttime. This meant that Mako, however much he had learned from his father, did not know how to fight properly or effectively block powerful moves.

They circled each other, Mako unable to land a punch while Yongzheng licked his upper lip, clearly enjoying the heavily one-sided battle.

"Tired, boy?" goaded Yongzheng, surveying Mako who was sweating profusely. "This won't take long. I'll finish you off before that earthbender comes back to collect your crisp corpse. Don't you worry 'bout that."

Years later, no one could quite describe what happened next in the gloomy alley. All that was certain was that it happened very fast. One minute they were staring each other down and then in the next, Yongzheng moved forward, hit Mako under the chin with a sharp uppercut and, like a limp rag doll, Mako fell backwards, landing so hard that all the breath in his lungs were knocked out of him. He barely had a second to collect himself when he felt the heavy man sitting on his chest, leaning forward to wrap his sausage-like fingers around Mako's throat. With horror and in head-spinning agony, he felt a frightening heat creep through the fingertips of his assailant. Mako was unable to scream as the burning fingertips dug into his neck, scorching his skin.

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><p>AN: I hope I made the time differences obvious enough with the flow of events. Will update as humanly possible :D


	16. Night of Silence

A/N: Happy Holidays to everyone! This is my holiday present to you all so enjoy your time off, and I'll be seeing you really soon with an update.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Night of Silence<strong>

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><p>So far, Iriah and Bing Su had had no luck finding the two brothers. Instead, they had a run-in with some of the gang members who had been chasing Mako and Bolin down the streets. Unfortunately for the girls, the thugs didn't seem particularly picky about whom to be hostile to.<p>

A resounding crack echoed along the alley followed by a gurgling scream and a thud. Iriah stood over an unconscious thug, his arm sticking out at an odd ankle, his mouth wide open in shock. Panting slightly, Iriah looked over at Bing Su who had managed to knock out another thug sporting a crude buzz cut.

"Well, that was rather rude," said Bing Su, dusting off her hands as she turned to face Iriah and then the body at her friend's feet.

"Uh, darling, you should be more careful. I think you broke his arm." Bing Su pointed at the body at Iriah's feet, grimacing with distaste.

"Yeah, like I care," scoffed Iriah, pondering which way to go now that they were clear of their obstacle. The alleyway they were standing in branched out in two different directions and smelled like a gutter. Eager though she was to extricate herself from such a tight smelly maze, Iriah was thoroughly lost and had no idea where the two brothers could possibly be. To make matters worse, it was now completely dark outside and, apparently, the townspeople liked to walk around blind because there was no sign of a streetlamp anywhere along the alley.

Just when Iriah was about to suggest that they head back and try a different route, a dark figure stumbled out from an intersecting alleyway, breathing heavily and walking at an angle. One hand was outstretched, holding onto the walls in order to stand upright.

"Wait," said Bing Su suddenly, dropping her guard. "Is that –"

"Bolin?" Iriah darted forward just in time to catch Bolin who collapsed in her arms, groaning with agony. It became obvious why; his left shoulder was badly burned, the acrid scent of scorched flesh stinging the night air.

"Talk to me, Bolin, what happened?" Iriah asked him urgently, snapping her fingers for an instant light source. The small flame illuminated his exhausted expression, his eyes barely focused, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

Bing Su knelt down beside the teenage boy as Iriah helped him down. Bolin seemed to be on the verge of going into shock and Iriah couldn't blame him. Growing up with her father had given her ample knowledge of the kind of pain burn injuries could inflict whether it was caused by a training accident or a direct attack during a probending match.

"We… we were attacked," mumbled Bolin, shivering slightly even though the summer night was fairly warm. With a sharp intake of breath, his hand hovering inches away from his damaged shoulder. "Please… Mako… he's…"

"He's what?" prompted Iriah, half-impatient to hear what had become of Bolin's brother and half-afraid to find out.

"He's… help him…" croaked Bolin, taking shallow gulps of air. He raised a shaking hand and gripped Iriah's forearm. For a burn victim quickly losing strength, his grip was surprisingly powerful. With what seemed to be all the energy he could possible muster, Bolin managed to speak two words: "Agni Kai."

"Oh, great," whispered Iriah, adrenaline suddenly coursing through her body. "That's just bloody –"

"I'll get him some help, Iriah, you go find the other one," said Bing Su shortly, noticing Iriah's tone of voice. When Iriah merely stared down at the half-conscious boy Bing Su repeated her words in a slightly irritable tone. "Iriah, go now!"

She didn't need telling twice. Standing up to her full height, Iriah began running, her portable light flickering ahead of her as she raced down the narrow alleyway, praying she wasn't too late.

* * *

><p>It was a strange feeling, the whole process of dying. Of course, it was also painful. The feeling of your windpipe being crushed, being unable to inhale, and the indescribable agony of having someone burn holes in your neck were all things Mako could've done without. But that was precisely what Mako was going through, lying flat on his back with a heavy man weighing him down, large hands clamped tightly around his neck, squeezing the life out of every cell. Painful, yes, but also strange.<p>

It was strange because, after what felt like hours of desperate struggling, Mako's mind began to slip. He was no longer looking into his assailant's cold, manic eyes. He was no longer clawing at the man's hands, trying to pry the thick fingers loose while feeling the unbearable heat emanating from them. As Mako's body slowly failed to respond, his brain began to slow as did time itself. The dark alleyway seemed to melt away, replaced by a face that, in his hazy state, he nearly failed to recognize.

Dad. Mako would've said the words – screamed it even – if he hadn't been so weak. His father's face was exactly as he remembered it, lined with age but still happy to see his son, his amber eyes glinting, and his thick eyebrows slightly arched. With jet black hair, he was very much like Mako, incredibly tall and, of course, a firebender.

"Mako," said his father, speaking in a reverberating, distant voice. "Son."

Mako tried to answer back, to reach out, but it was useless. Even in this hazy dream world, he had no control of his own body and so was unable to touch the one person he had yearned to see for the past two years, even during tonight's Agni Kai. Mako could only stare until the image of his father faded away, blending into the mist and fog that pressed down on him.

As Mako lost all feeling in his body, he saw more people immerge from his foggy memories. His mother was standing over him now, her green eyes tearful like they had been during Kenji's departure. Then appeared the thin figure of his younger brother Mireu, his watchful eyes looking down at Mako, willing his older brother to say something but knowing the words would never come. In a nearly unconscious state of mind, Mako realized how intuitive Mireu was, how brave he was, knowing all the truths the adults so painstakingly tried to shield from him and yet still capable of standing strong. Mireu faded and replaced by his baby sister Min who smiled lovingly down at her oldest brother, probably unaware what was going on. At the sight of his innocent little sister, Mako cried without tears, feeling the emotional collapse in his barely beating heart.

"Mako?" A voice called to Mako. It wasn't Min, who was beginning to fade away into the fog, but that of a young male's. It was so familiar but Mako's brain seemed to have stopped functioning. He was aware of his entire body failing him now, could almost hear the blood slowing to a crawl, suffocating his oxygen-starved organs. He couldn't even see the hazy dream-world anymore. It was growing dark.

"I know you can hear me, bro, it's gonna be okay," the voice repeated. It seemed close and, at the same time, a million miles away, calling from a distant realm that Mako was no longer a part of. Again the voice said, "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

He was in darkness now. There was nothing more for him to see, no more visions of his family members, no friends (though admittedly he couldn't think of anyone), and no more goodbyes. Just a far-off voice speaking to him, uncannily familiar but incredibly soothing, was all that was left.

"I'm here, bro."

The darkness engulfed Mako, leaving him lying all alone in the silence.

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><p>As Iriah's father used to say, probending was a sport built on teamwork and skill. Therefore, it was theoretically possible for a well-coordinated team of relatively weak benders to beat a team of three individually strong benders who were less unified. This was one of the things that made any probending match of three-on-three so exciting: the unpredictability of the outcome. However, when it came to one-on-one matches, most people agreed that brawn outperformed brain in any competition.<p>

When Iriah's father had been part of the champion team, one-on-one matches were hardly ever considered official. Of course, it never stopped people from watching them. Because of the immense popularity garnered by pro bending in general, debuting in the world of elemental brawl was as competitive as it could get. Most benders hoping to participate in the Pro Bending League either needed to create a competent team all on their own or stand out enough to be recruited. The easiest way to do this was to fight in a pay-per-view matchup where, if you were lucky, you were paid absolutely nothing to face off against an opponent. Supposing you made a good impression on any of the recruiters who might be watching, you were then picked up and placed in a team no one really knew about.

Not her father's daughter for nothing, Iriah had once participated in a one-on-one match just after her sixteenth birthday. Although Iriah was rather proficient at firebending and enjoyed watching pro bending matches, the thought of actually fighting in the arena with other teammates had never crossed her mind. She had only agreed to fight due to her father's constant pestering.

As Iriah quickly moved along the alley, straining her ears for any signs of a struggle, she remembered this one-time matchup between her and some guy she remembered as a weedy yet agile firebender. This long ago "audition" of sorts was the closest Iriah had ever come to an Agni Kai, and she silently wondered whether this experience would help her take down an opponent who was confident enough to challenge a complete stranger in the dead of night.

Iriah stopped suddenly. The muffled sound of a struggle reached her ear. She backtracked, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. Her light flickered in her hand while she scanned the surrounding area for any sign of life. The noises, though close by, seemed to be hidden behind a wall in the labyrinthine alleyways.

Out of sheer desperation, Iriah extinguished the light and started climbing the wall nearest to her, trying to listen for the sound again. Digging her boots into the niches along the stone wall, she started to haul herself up. Unable to see in front of her in the dark, she navigated using just her sense of touch, slowly ascending one stone block at a time.

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><p>Enjoy your holidays, everyone! Thanks for reading~!<p> 


	17. Fire Lord Zuko

A/N: Happy 2012, everybody! Enjoy the chapter :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Fire Lord Zuko<strong>

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><p>When Iriah reached the top of the wall, she was so desperate to find Mako that she misjudged the thickness of the wall, lost her balance and went toppling over the side, both arms flailing wildly. In the few seconds that it took for her to reach the ground, Iriah fully expected to hit solid ground and have all the wind knocked out of her. As it turned out, her knee collided with something hard on the way down, and she rolled sideways, landed on her back and clutched her knee, howling silently with excruciating pain.<p>

It was only after a full-minute of trying to catch her breath that Iriah realized what her knee had hit. Lighting her immediate area with small flame in the palm of her right hand, she saw two men lying side by side barely a foot away from her. One was Mako, the other was the man with the mullet she had witnessed in the noodle shop. The blow from her knee directly to his head had rendered the man completely unconscious, something that filled Iriah with immense relief, despite the agony her knee was causing.

Gingerly testing her leg, Iriah quickly slipped over to Mako's side. She was shocked to find that his neck was pockmarked with what looked like circular cigarette burns and severe bruising. Iriah quickly tilted Mako's head back to free his airway and bent her head close to his, trying to listen for signs of life. Thankfully, the sounds of shallow breathing reached her ears.

"Y-you…"

With a sinking heart, Iriah turned to see that the man was no longer unconscious. She hadn't knocked him out completely though he looked a bit dizzy, certainly angry with murder burning his eyes. Desperate as she was to get Mako to safety, Iriah couldn't think how to avoid the fight she was about to get into.

"You're from that circus, aren't you?" growled the man, propping himself up onto one knee, never breaking eye contact with Iriah who was mentally assessing her new opponent. The man cracked his knuckles threateningly before standing up completely, his face a death threat on its own. "You can't save the boy now. But I'll finish you off so you can join him."

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><p>Yongzheng was brutal, savage, and deadly. His firebending was powerful, if a bit unstable. The only reason Iriah was still alive with just a few singes was mostly due to the fact that her opponent's aim was not as precise as it could've been, allowing the much more nimble female firebender to dodge his relentless attacks.<p>

The man halted after sending another round of fireballs in her direction, all of them barely missing his target by a hair's width. He panted heavily, more out of frustration than exhaustion. Iriah, on the other hand, could already feel the fatigue set in, her mind scrambling to figure a way out of this mess. She could make out the outline of his hulking figure in gloom but the flashes of fire kept effectively blinding her. Iriah blinked rapidly, trying to erase the flashes of flames that were seemingly seared into the back of her eyes.

They were fighting just feet away from where Mako lay; dead or alive, Iriah had no way of knowing. Although the few moments she had used to check on him had confirmed that he was breathing, the tables could turn at any minute if his air passage was damaged and was left untreated for too long. However, the prospect of fleeing from the fight, either alone or somehow dragging the immobile Mako with her, was inconceivable. The minute the madman saw her back turned, he would roast her alive.

"You little runt!" snarled Yongzheng, wiping spittle on his arm as he glared at her. "What's worse than a descendant of that cowardly scum Zuko is a foolish supporter!"

"Let him go," said Iriah in a surprisingly calm tone she did not feel. She realized she was using her slightly masculine stage voice she adopted during her magic acts, the voice Bing Su referred to as her "gay tone" because it sounded like a slightly high-pitched, effeminate man's voice. Swallowing slightly she continued, "He's done nothing to hurt you."

At her words, Yongzheng laughed harshly, the sound of a beast roaring before tearing its prey limb from limb. He was clearly enjoying the process of intimidating his prey, and Iriah would've been lying through her teeth if she had said she wasn't scared. She was petrified about what the man was capable of doing to her, to Mako. The ironic thing was that a more innocent, less-worldly girl in her shoes might've mustered more courage than she was feeling. But Iriah wasn't innocent. She had learned the hard way what happened when a murderer cornered you in a dark alley and decided to end your life. She couldn't back down but, at the same time, couldn't reassure herself that she would escape alive, unscathed.

"Innocent, is he then?" asked the man, his lips curling into a cold, cruel smile. Iriah was instantly reminded of the night her father died and how her captive had taunted her.

_You _are_ an innocent girl, aren't you, sweetheart?_

"No descendant of Fire Lord Zuko is innocent, you mark my words," growled Yongzheng, pulling Iriah out of her reverie. He flexed his fingers and Iriah stiffened slightly, afraid he might suddenly attack again. It was all she could do to keep up, either evading or blocking the fire he ruthlessly threw at her. To her relief, he kept talking. "That innocent boy over there has the bloody fiend's eyes. He's descended from royalty, whatever hovel he might dwell in now." He spat suddenly on the ground between them. It took all of Iriah's nerve not to jump back. "So I'll finish him, right after I kill you."

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><p>The United Republic had always been hailed as the symbol of unity among the four nations. Even in its early years when the citizens of Fire Nation colonies and immigrants from other nations were still trying to get used to one another, people always spoke of the peaceful times to come in the city which was created by the great peacekeepers of the age, Avatar Aang and the much celebrated Fire Lord Zuko.<p>

Growing up in the heart of Republic City, Iriah knew what it meant to live in a melting pot of different cultures. Although her family never traveled extensively, Iriah loved learning about the various cultures. She especially loved to compare life in the city to that of the four nations. After years of living together, the cultures of Republic City had evolved beyond the traditions of their original homelands. For instance, a family of waterbenders in the city was quite different from their counterparts living in the water tribes. Many took pride in this difference, saying that in this way, they upheld the traditions passed down by their ancestors and yet were unique in their own way. Iriah felt the same way about her cultural heritage and her family traditions and yet sometimes wished the city weren't such a diverse mix of cultures.

One of the disadvantages of a melting pot society was something referred to as "ancestral pride". A common example of this was seen in any given public school spread out across the United Republic. For years, educational administrators struggled to put together a suitable history textbook for students. The main problem was that the original history books had been written by Earth Kingdom scholars, some of whom were incredibly biased, unabashedly praising the wisdom and majesty of the Earth Kingdoms while degrading the other three nations. In response, some schools started using textbooks similar to those used in Fire Nation schools. Even though Avatar Aang had seen to it himself that all the Fire Nation history books be rewritten because of the historical inaccuracies depicting the Air Nomad genocides as something patriotic and heroic, there was still an underlying tone of great favoritism toward the Fire Nation in the revised textbooks. All at once, parents, students, and teachers started fighting over what was to be viewed historically accurate, unbiased, and objective.

This fight was still going on when Iriah went to school. Over the period of her high school years, Iriah and her fellow classmates were forced to memorize three different versions of the pre-Hundred Year War era which varied depending on which teacher you learned from, textbook you used, or in some cases, which school you attended. In all the academic mayhem that ensued, Iriah found it a sheer miracle that she managed to graduate at all.

Unfortunately, squabbles over history textbooks were the least of the problems. Some people took ancestral pride to new extremes. During a year in middle school, there was a bully in Iriah's year that she would never forget. The huge boy named Bom Seok came from a family of proud earthbenders who were well known among the political crowd. He frequently spent his time either flaunting around his money or picking on kids who were descendants of earthbenders from the original Fire Nation colonies. Whenever a teacher pulled him aside to lecture him on his bullying behavior, Bom Soek explained in his patronizing tone that the kids he was bullying were from families of traitors who had sold out their own country to fraternize with the enemy. He also made it a point of speaking up in history class whenever the Hundred Year War was mentioned, careful to emphasize how the earthbenders who eventually married the firebenders in the colonies were even worse than the political spies who sold information directly to the Fire Nation.

Even to this day, the thought of the self-righteous boy who justified tormenting his classmates by using his warped understanding of history still left a sour taste in the back of Iriah's mouth. She tasted it right then as she listened to the ego-maniac standing before her, proudly proclaiming that murdering someone was okay because his understanding of history dictated that the creation of the United Republic of Nations was messed up, and so were the founders.

"DDIIIEEEE!" Yongzheng screamed, slashing the air with a swift kick. A stream of white-hot fire went whipping at Iriah who was almost knocked off her feet. She slashed the air with both hands, cutting off the attack before it reached her or Mako who was still lying some feet behind her.

Soon the air around Iriah smelled of acrid smoke. It was nearly impossible to counterattack at any point because Yongzheng appeared to have no limit. He barely charged his attacks before throwing them. Despite the fact that his aim was always a little off, it gave little advantage to Iriah who could not move away from her side of the alley for fear of endangering Mako. She was cornered and had nowhere to go.

When the smell of something burning close by reached her nose, Iriah chanced half a glance down while Yongzheng was switching stances; she realized the edge of her black cape had caught fire. Then it hit her; there was a way to get out of this. Unscathed was no longer an option at this point in the game, however. Her opponent had already proved his mastery of firebending to be far beyond anything Iriah was capable of. While blocking the next wave of burning spears Yongzheng threw at her, Iriah hesitated for the slightest of moments. She could see no way out of the situation; drag on the fight any longer and Mako would be dead before sunrise. She had to try and hope for the best.

It was her father she thought of during the next few minutes, his winning smile; his slightly crooked nose from all the pro bending injuries; his surprisingly gentle laughter. Yongzheng couldn't have guessed in the time it took to complete one Avatar cycle what was going through Iriah's head as she carried out her plan.

The small flame that was flickering on the end of her cape grew so rapidly, he was momentarily stunned. Then Iriah whirled around, wrapping the flaming cloak around her as she did. There she stood, a burning pillar, sending sparks and plumes of black smoke into the sky. Yongzheng's brain was struggling to comprehend this spontaneous act of self-immolation when her rough screams ripped the air; the screams of someone being cooked alive, it seemed. The flames seemed to climb higher and higher, eating up the air above like serpents, twisting and writhing its way upward coupled with terrifying shrieks.

All of a sudden, it ended. The human bonfire, the smoke, the screams; it all stopped. The tattered remains of the cape and a slowly flickering ember drifted down to the ground while Yongzheng stared in amazement. His awe lasted only a few seconds before it was replaced by heart-stopping terror.

Out of the flames grew a figure constructed entirely of embers. The figure's handsome beard, royal robes, his very skin was flickering flames but every single feature was realistic and visible. It took Yongzheng barely half a second to recognize the face of the figure. Fire Lord Zuko.

"No…" gasped Yongzheng, taking a step back. His eyes raked the alley, saw the boy lying motionless as ever but there was no sign of the other one anywhere. "This is a trick! Come out here you coward!"

But even as he shouted into empty air, the burning figure of Fire Lord Zuko seemed to walk like a real human being towards him, his robes flickering in orange flames, the famous scar adorning the right side of his face in slightly deeper shades of fire.

"Stay away!" roared Yongzheng, and he punched out, sending a fireball straight at Zuko's face. Incredibly, the attack sailed right through the face, distorting the image for a while but then the flames seemed to leap back to reconstruct the features of a very angry Fire Lord.

"P-please…" whispered Yongzheng when the figure was a few steps away. "H-h-have mercy."

Fire Lord Zuko's fiery incarnation did not speak. He was so close now that Yongzheng could see every detail, right down to the ornate headdress worn only by the royal ruler of the Fire Nation. As a young boy, Yongzheng had seen the design many times in his textbooks and was scared witless to see it tonight.

Without warning, a hand shot out and grasped Yongzheng's neck. The man was utterly terrified. He couldn't even yell out when he felt the heat burning his skin but was silenced by sheer horror when he felt the pressure of the fingers. How was this possible?

"Leave…" whispered Fire Lord Zuko hoarsely, the yellow-orange embers constructing his face flickering as his lips parted to speak. "Leave…"

Fire Lord Zuko released his grip on the man who staggered backward, making a noise between a whimper and a cry of pain. Fear striking every tendon his body held, Yongzheng began to run in the opposite direction but Fire Lord Zuko had a last parting gift. Screams of terror were heard as dawn approached. In later years, some people heard the babbling stories of the deranged man, positively quaking with fear as he recounted the day when the flickering image of Fire Lord Zuko mutated into a huge dragon in a burst of flames, chasing him down the length of the alley before shattering in a shower of gold sparks.

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><p>AN: Thanks for reading! ^^


	18. Burden

A/N: This chapter was so hard for me to write. I'm really sorry it took so long. To be honest, I'm not completely satisfied and it might go through a rewrite but we'll see.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

Update 1/21/2012: Some really odd grammar mistakes have been fixed. If you spot any more, don't be afraid to tell me :D

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Burden<strong>

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><p>Right after her father died, Iriah changed. Revenge was all she could think of and she'd never wanted anything so badly in her life. When her mother passed away due to shock, Iriah doggedly pursued any lead, the smallest of clues in order to hunt down her father's killers. After many interviews, after hours of needling information through bribes and blackmail, the day finally came when Iriah stood outside the doorstep of her father's killer. One night, nearly two hours after a mysterious figure was seen entering the building, the whole residence suddenly exploded in a powerful burst of flames. The police deemed it to be an unfortunate gas leak and Iriah escaped without notice.<p>

If Iriah had ever thought that vengeance would be the end of it all, she was sorely mistaken. In an almost dreamlike stupor, she joined a traveling circus, planning to escape. She did manage to leave the city behind but the memories were forever her burden to bear. Although she never told anyone – not even Bing Su – Iriah suffered nightmares that revolved around the final moments of the now deceased assassin and also her father's life.

Despite everything, life went on. As each day passed, the blessing that was meant to be her legacy soon dragged along into a daily curse, something she neither had the will to harness or abandon. Life was a constant cycle of fear. Iriah lived in constant terror of being caught, of losing another loved one, and – though she tried to ignore it – the fear of killing someone again.

_Why? _It was a question she had asked – had actually screamed hysterically – at the assassin before ending his existence. _Why did you do it?_

Leaning against the alley wall, every inch of her body screaming in agony, she asked herself the same question. Why? Why? _Why?_

Iriah slumped to the ground, unable to stand any longer. The pain, the burns, the fatigue… it was too unbearable. Her skin felt like it was literally peeling off body in curls of blackened flesh. Whimpers that might have belonged to a wounded animal slipped from her lips in the dark alleyway that was now void of anyone except the two remaining firebenders lying on their backs, weak and alone.

_Why?_ Iriah asked herself again, her vision blurring from the intense agony as she stared at Mako who was lying next to her on the ground. _Why did you do it?_

Her breathing was ragged, half-heaving half-gasping for oxygen. Her lungs seared as she sucked in gulps of air and the pungent smell of her charred hair. In the distance, Iriah thought she heard voices but couldn't be sure. All the while, her body stung, shivering violently. Her heart thudded frantically as her mind tried desperately to stay awake, aware of all the pain.

_Why? You don't even know him…_

Mako was lying where she'd left him. It was nearly impossible to tell whether he was still breathing or not. Using what felt like the last vestiges of her energy, she slowly reached over but her body wouldn't follow. She didn't even have enough strength to crawl. Instead she dropped her hand on top of Mako's outstretched arm, wondering if she could feel his pulse or if her singed fingertips were no longer capable of sensing anything.

It was a strange feeling to be in this situation again. After nearly a year, Iriah was back in the dark, trapped between life and death with one major difference. Her father wasn't here to save her again. No one was. So why had she risked her own life to save this boy she barely knew? Why not run, get help, something – anything – but this?

Iriah's fingers closed around Mako's hand and she realized the answer even as she closed her eyes, her senses slowly dimming to the surroundings around her. Soon the darkness was not that of natural night but her own vision failing. And yet Iriah did not let go of Mako's hand.

Iriah thought back to a few days ago when she had found Mako crouched near her dresser in her caravan. She'd lost herself then, attacking the boy without rationalizing, acting before thinking. For one crazy moment, she'd mistaken Mako for none other than her dead father. The pro bending uniform he'd been wearing was actually her father's, something she'd donated to the circus as a costume upon first joining. It hadn't been the mere sight of her father's uniform though. Mako, with his tall, lean physique, was very much like her dead father.

Even tonight when she was faced with the choice of running and saving her own life or staying to protect that of a stranger's, the memories of that horrifying night in the alley seemed to impose itself on her subconscious and replay the image of a father begging for his daughter's life. Iriah regretted leaving him there, regretted surviving when in the end she'd lost her whole family, left with nothing but a thirst for vengeance. Even during her obsessive pursuit of the murderers, Iriah had harbored a sense of acute guilt at abandoning her father, for not trying to free him even as he had told her to run. His last words echoed in her mind now, taunting her.

_I'll always protect you, Iriah…_

The voices were growing louder around her but Iriah couldn't see anything. Eyelids too heavy to lift, she lay very still on the ground, holding Mako's hand. As she slipped into blissful nothingness, the sounds fading to a muted mumble around her, Iriah pretended for a brief moment that the hand she was holding was really her father's.

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><p>Light. Mako felt it, seeping in under his eyelids, into the very cracks of his dormant mind before he actually saw it. A minute trickled past before he realized he could open his eyes, that they weren't glued shut though it certainly felt that way. They were unusually heavy as though weighed down with coins.<p>

"Mako?" a familiar voice spoke very near him but the light was so bright it temporarily blinded him.

"MAKO!"

Before his eyes had fully adjusted to the glaring morning sunlight streaming through the window, Mako felt someone tackle him, pressing him into the mattress he was lying on and squeezing him in a tight hug.

"Mako, thank the spirits! You're awake!"

It was a moment before Mako could gather his wits and recognize who was nearly strangling him in a suffocating embrace.

"B-bolin…" Mako managed to choke out as Bolin finally released him.

Bolin looked terrible. With dark bags under his eyes, disheveled hair, and a heavily bandaged shoulder, Mako's younger brother could've passed for a war veteran recovering from a recent battle. His downtrodden appearance did nothing to diminish his delight in seeing Mako up and well again, however, and Mako couldn't help but return an uncharacteristically goofy grin.

The room they were in was obviously the only medical ward in Shin Ren Town. Mako recognized it from many years ago when he was called to fix a troublesome fan that kept sputtering to a halt in the middle of a particularly sweltering summer. The fan was no longer there but the frayed wallpaper and the thin curtains were all the same, as was the strong scent of disinfectant.

"Wait til Mom hears you've finally woken up! She was here a couple hours ago but she had to go home to look after Min and Mireu. They wanted to come too but Mom said they were too young and -"

"Wait, wait, slow down, Bolin. Mom was here?" Mako interjected.

"Well of course she was, bro, she was all ballistic when she first found out about all this!"

"When did she find out? How long have I been out then?"

Bolin hesitated for a second, his expression changing from giddy joy to slight discomfort. Mako could hardly miss this but said nothing, waiting for his brother to respond.

"Umm… well, in total you were out for about three days," answered Bolin, speaking cautiously. "The doctor here was a bit worried you wouldn't wake up, you know. Thought you'd stopped breathing for too long and it might've damaged your brain…" He trailed off, unable to meet Mako's eyes as though afraid his previously comatose brother might start displaying signs of brain malfunction.

"Three whole days…" repeated Mako slowly. It was a strange feeling to discover he had missed 72 hours of his life. "Three days… He was choking me and then… I blacked out." Suddenly remembering something, Mako looked down at his hand. A couple of scratches and slight burns where he'd failed to completely block Yongzheng's attacks were all that were left of the previous week's fight. Strangely, a nagging sensation told him something was missing, almost as if he'd holding an object but had dropped it during his sleep.

"What happened?" asked Mako.

Bolin shifted uncomfortably again. His expression was now gloomier than before and Mako felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a creeping foreboding crawling underneath his skin.

"Bolin, what happened?" Mako repeated, a hand on his brother's arm.

Bolin jumped a little at the touch and looked up to meet his brother's eyes. Mako thought he saw something in the green depths. Usually he could read his brother better than anyone but this time he couldn't be sure. Was it pity? Fear? Sadness?

"It was…" Bolin trailed away, but then cleared his throat and continued, "I-Iriah. She saved you. Bing Su and some of the townspeople found you in the alley and brought you both here."

"Iriah saved me?" Mako couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. "Well then, where is she? Is she okay?"

Bolin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Mako's, and still Mako couldn't read them. What was it that Bolin was hiding?

"Bolin, I want to know. Where is she?"

Bolin sighed slowly, letting out a deep breath, something that sounded a lot like resignation. Mako was starting to get annoyed. He had half a mind to snap at his brother to tell him where Iriah was and if he could speak to her, when his brother spoke up and the words died on Mako's tongue.

"She was injured when they brought her in, Mako. More than half her body was severely burned," said Bolin, his voice heavy yet surprisingly steady.

Mako's throat was now paper-dry, beads of cold sweat forming on his brow at this devastating news.

"When can I say see her?" asked Mako cautiously, afraid his voice might crack.

"You don't get it, bro," said Bolin quietly. "Yesterday was her funeral."

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><p>A few days later, the sky was a clear blue, the sun bright and high overhead. People were enjoying the good weather which was neither too hot nor too humid. Some families were taking the day off to picnic up in the nearby mountains, the children playing happily in the streams while the parents rested in the shade of pine trees.<p>

Higher in the mountains was a graveyard, its grounds cordoned off by a fence of barbed wire and a rusted metal gate. Two teenaged boys holding a bottle of spirits and white flowers were picking their way through the overgrown weeds in the communal cemetary, heading slowly over to a grave marked by a headstone engraved with vertical lines of calligraphy.

Both were dressed similarly in thin long sleeves and baggy pants. The taller of the two was wearing a thin scarf, underneath which faded burn marks and bruises were just barely visible. The shorter stockier teenager held a neat bouquet of white flowers clutched in his hands, his green eyes filled with sorrow as he as he contemplated the headstone in silence.

There was a small wooden table set out in front of the headstone. After setting their meager offerings on the narrow space, the older boy lit a few sticks of incense by gently rubbing the tips with forefinger and thumb. Soon thin streamers of smoke rose from the incense and the boy placed them carefully in an incense stand next to the small table, bowing his head in respect.

The green-eyed boy pulled out a simple cup from his pocket and nodded to his older brother who picked up the small bottle of spirits, easily breaking the stoppered seal. He then poured a generous measure into the cup, watching the liquid sparkle in the sunlight as it filled. Holding the cup carefully in both hands, the green-eyed boy slowly drew circles with the cup over the table, over the innocent white flowers and the incense.

Birds chirped cheerfully nearby as the two teenagers bowed low, kneeling in front of the headstone, their foreheads and hands brushing the earth. Neither talked, their eyes closed as they paid their respects in silence. Clouds drifted lazily up ahead and a slight wind distorted the straight line of smoke issuing from the incense sticks over the boys' heads.

At long last, the two teenaged boys stood up, bowed once more, and then packed up the bottle and cup, the taller boy lighting another incense stick before turning his back to follow his brother out of the graveyard.

The sky was a clear blue, the sun bright and high overhead. It was a terribly beautiful morning.

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><p>Thanks for reading so far :) I'll be updating with the <span>final chapter<span> soon (I hope).


	19. War Within

A/N: Okay, so** this IS NOT the final chapter**. There might be one or two at most after this one so thanks for hanging on in there. Also, I apologize for the lousy update speed but my high school graduation is coming up and I've been busy with other things.

So with that in mind, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen: War Within<strong>

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><p>Inside the lonely caravan, a brooding man sat alone, cradling a bottle of gin. He was not quite as intoxicated as he would've liked but the dim light of the candle at his elbow gave off the illusion that the man was dozing drunkenly, sleeping a blurred dream. But he wasn't.<p>

With one hand, he undid the black tie he had worn to the funeral, tossing it aside on the floor in uncharacteristic carelessness. His eyes seemed to burn, reflecting the candle's glow. The windows were shuttered and not a single ray of moonlight penetrated the gloom.

Taking another swig from his bottle, Shadow smacked his lips lazily, thinking back to the morning when he had marched solemnly across the parched grass with a framed picture of Iriah in his hands. A gathering of people had watched him do it, some of whom he recognized, most of whom he didn't. Shadow hardly cared. If he'd cared what others thought, he'd never have washed his face of white powder or his signature black diamond and attended a public gathering. Even a few of his staff members had failed to recognize him at first. Shadow never removed his makeup – his mask – for any occasion. That morning was the exception.

"Old friend…" he muttered, his voice slurring slightly as the alcohol ran its course through his bloodstream. "Is this… is this what you had in mind?" His voice carried around the caravan with no one to hear it but perhaps the candle. He hiccupped suddenly. "Was this part of your plan? Your only daughter dead; your wife dead; you… dead."

He was definitely drunk now. No longer was the room gloomy and steady but spinning and bursting with more light than was possible on a pitch-black night. He recalled the day before the funeral, saw himself sitting rigid at the bedside of a burn victim, her skin black in places. It was useless, Shadow had thought. He'd seen fatal burn wounds before in his years of circus life. A burn this bad would result in death one way or another.

Iriah had never opened her eyes but her chapped lips had moved ceaselessly, moaning in pain and sometimes mumbling. Shadow had been there to hear it all, an entire year's worth of apologies and regrets spilling from the body of a dying person, his best friend's last kin.

"…help the…" she'd muttered, her face contorted in pain.

Shadow had quickly drawn nearer to her. Iriah's voice had been paper-dry and fading but still coherent. She repeated her request over and over again until she finally died a few hours later. Shadow heard it all.

And now, here he sat in complete solitude, more wasted than he'd been in many years, hazy recollections spinning in his aching head. Shadow had a decision to make. Yes, Iriah had been something to him, a solid reminder of someone very close to him, someone he'd lost and never quite forgave for leaving. But on the other hand, Shadow had vowed to keep a low profile, to vanish within the darkness and emerge only in disguise, in the spotlights which were his only refuge.

"I… I don't know," mumbled Shadow, his eyes drooping with sleep. "Help a brother out here, old friend…"

His head lolled to the side and the empty bottle rolled from his grasp, thudded to the floorand rolled underneath his desk. Fatigue pulled him into nothingness and Shadow slumped over his desk, falling into a troubled sleep.

* * *

><p>There were mainly two emotions Mako felt after the night in the alleyway. These two emotions interchanged and switched so often in the days following his three-day coma that it was like watching a coin flipping back and forth like some demented fish spirit.<p>

At first he suffered bouts of depression. It would settle in, blanketing him like black snow, and reminding him of a short-lived pseudo friendship. In all honesty, Mako didn't know enough about Iriah – except maybe her single darkest secret – to call himself a real friend. He didn't know all the details about her childhood or what her hobbies were or any of that other stuff that friends normally knew about each other. But she had obviously thought differently. Why else, Mako reasoned, would she have sacrificed herself to save him?

And then, when the miserable thoughts seemed to suffocate him, the coin flipped and he felt… happy. Jubilant. This brought immeasurable shame to Mako. He knew why he was so glad. If Iriah hadn't stepped in when she had, Mako would probably be in the Spirit World right now, his mortal body slowly rotting beneath the earth while his family wept, their eldest son unable to help them in any way. Was it not better for him and his family that he was still alive, even at the cost of an innocent third-party?

As swiftly as this new-found joy of life kicked in, heavy boulders labeled "guilt" would send him crashing to the ground again, deflating all sense of purpose or contentment. Poisonous thoughts would prick his insides mercilessly, reminding him that someone had died for no other reason than that he, Mako, existed. Had Iriah not suffered enough? Had she not earned the right to live her chosen life? Did Mako really have a better reason to live than Iriah had, even if she no longer had a family?

These questions would fog up his brain, sometimes causing him to burst out in rage, sometimes tears, sometimes both. Often times he had to excuse himself if he was with someone just so he could go outside and punch a wall. When he was alone – or thought he was – he didn't care much about appearances. Once or twice he had to physically restrain himself from breaking something he didn't own. And then the coin would flip and he'd be happy again. Disgustingly so.

To say that Mako's behavior went noticed by younger brother Bolin was an understatement. Bolin seemed to quickly develop a hair-trigger sensor for when Mako was about to have one of his emotional collapses or just switch moods. When they were together, Bolin would excuse himself before Mako asked him to, allowing his older brother some privacy when he broke down again. Even when they were apart, Bolin had the strangest feeling he could tell what Mako was feeling at that moment, whether he was laughing or crying again. It felt frustrating to watch from the sidelines, unable to help his brother out of the extreme mood-swings. Bolin understood why Mako was struggling with this inner conflict, knew his brother well enough to know how severe his survivor's guilt must be. But at the same time, Bolinfelt annoyed that Mako couldn't control himself. The truth was that there were bigger problems than Iriah's inexplicable sacrifice and Bolin needed his older brother's help.

While the two brothers were hospitalized, debt collectors had paid a visit to their home. Though their mother tried to hide it, it was obvious the debt collectors had been vicious with their demands. Bolin could easily tell how worried she was about the mounting debt on the soy field, the seed money they had borrowed, and now the medical bills for their burn treatment.

Afraid the debt collectors would return with something more than verbal threats, Min and Mireu were sent over to live with their mother's friend Huaming for the time being. Meanwhile, the rest of the family tried to cram as many jobs as they could come by into their schedule. Even Mako, who was still internally waging a war against himself, found the strength to get up and go to work every morning, always remembering to flip up his collar to hide the faded scars on his neck.

* * *

><p>About a week after Iriah's funeral, Shadow asked Bing Su to join him in his caravan. Bing Su was tardy again as she had been to every single rehearsal they'd had since the funeral. She came gliding in, her posture perfect as usual without even knocking because Shadow had left the door open. Though annoyed, the ringmaster, wearing his trademark make-up and one of his black suits that wasn't rigged with a water-squirting daisy, greeted her politely as she shut the door.<p>

"Thank you for coming, Bing Su, "said Shadow as the dancer perched herself on the stool opposite him, a desk wedged between the two of them.

The dim lights in his room didn't quite illuminate the beauty of Bing Su's lacy turquoise dress but failed to diminish the natural radiance that seemed to emanate from her pores, even when she was frowning darkly at him. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, the delicate handle of an ornate dagger protruding from it, a warning as much as it was a fashion statement.

When Bing Su did not speak, Shadow decided to cut to the chase, acutely aware that Bing Su was much less courteous just days after her close friend's death. He admired her ability to keep her outer composure while simultaneously containing grief and anger.

"I wanted to ask why that boy – Bolin was it? Yes, what he said to you at the funeral," said Shadow quietly, making sure to keep his voice light yet firm.

"Why?" replied Bing Su coldly, still graceful yet more dangerous than a poisonous rat-viper.

"It might be… important."

This was clearly the wrong thing to say. Bing Su snorted, a delicate snort at that. Shadow doubted whether she could imitate the cry of a platypus-bear without making it sound delicate. She didn't speak but did not break eye contact.

"Please, Bing Su," said Shadow. A pause. "It… it has something to do with Iriah."

The stool scraped the wooden floor as Bing Su stood up, preparing to leave. Shadow watched her as she reached the door and opened it, letting the sunlight flood in.

Without turning her head, Bing Su said, "He thanked me for saving him. Him and his brother."

"Was that all?" asked Shadow, speaking to the hair piece as Bing Su resolutely kept her back turned to him.

"Yes," she said. Then the door closed, the sunlight leaving with her.

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><p>AN: Thank you all who have read, reviewed, or both. If you find any glaringly obvious typos, grammar mistakes, etc. please let me know. :D


	20. By the River

**A/N**: Yes! Legend of Korra now has a TV commercial and official site along with a fan club: Korra Nation. If you missed out on all the news, go search it because it's legitimate and awesome! Also, character bios of Mako and Bolin as well as Korra, Chief Bei Fong, and Tenzin were released on Nickelodeon's official site so go check that out as well. And enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen: By the River<strong>

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><p>The musty police station was cramped and windowless. Behind a single, badly scratched desk sat a broad, mustached officer with rough skin and beady eyes. Old wanted posters depicting crudely drawn criminals were peeling from the grimy walls; there were even several black-and-white photographs, so grainy that it was hard to tell one from the other. Lined up against the wall near the entrance was a row of sagging seats, a few occupied by people waiting to see the mustached officer who was currently dealing with a dark-haired teenager wearing a vest with the collar turned up even though it was summer.<p>

"What do you mean you've dropped the case?" the boy could be overheard exclaiming, his voice rising above the previously conspiratorial whispering.

"I told you, kid," said the officer in a supremely exasperated tone, "we don't have the kind of resources to start a nationwide manhunt. This Yong-choon guy –"

" – it's Yongzheng, his name is written right here in this statement!" interrupted Mako, jabbing at piece of paper lying on the desk between them. "This is unacceptable, officer, it just is. You can't just give up like this when there's a murderer on the loose."

The officer was looking slightly uncomfortable at the sight of the teenager whose face was slowly growing red with rage.

"Look, kid, we've done the best we can do, all right?" said the officer, motioning for Mako to calm down. "But you've gotta understand; no one saw any of this happen."

"What? You've gotta be kidding, there's a dead body buried underground and you're saying there isn't enough proof?"

"No, kid, there ain't any proof," corrected the officer, flipping open the case file on his desk. "None, okay, kid? Says here you were even unconscious when the guy killed her. As for the body, we don't know what happened. There's no proof that a firebender burned her and ran off –"

"My brother and I were hospitalized with burns because of that man!" cried Mako, not caring if he was yelling at an authority figure.

"Keep it down, kid!" hissed the officer angrily; ducking low as though afraid someone might overhear him. He motioned for Mako to lean closer which he grudgingly did. "I get you're upset, kid, someone died and you couldn't help them." There was a short pause where Mako couldn't speak. The officer hurried on, "but you've gotta admit, kiddo, there ain't anyone in the world who can track down a murderer right now, not when he ran off in the dark like that. There were witnesses back in that noodle shop you were eatin' at and all but those other guys this killer was hanging around with are all gone as well. Vanished. Into thin air. So, much as we want to, kid, there ain't finding this guy. I can't help you with this."

And with that, the officer flipped the file shut. Mako sat there for a while longer, utterly stunned.

* * *

><p>"That's the last of them, sir, that'll be six silver pieces," said Bolin, wiping sweat from his brow after setting down half a dozen crates of fresh vegetable down on the spacious kitchen floor.<p>

The owner of the sushi restaurant he was currently standing in was a beefy man with thick arms and a wide girth. His face was surprisingly kind for man of his size and he smiled warmly as he counted the correct sum of money from a coin pocket tied around his waist.

"There you go, Bolin, hope to see you next week," said the owner, dropping the coins into Bolin's hand. "It's good to have someone reliable as you handling all my ingredients. Soul of the restaurant, you know!"

"You're welcome, Mr. Yori," replied Bolin, bowing slightly and then retreating out the back door.

Sunlight was beating the paved road outside, nearly blinding Bolin as he mounted a rickety bicycle which he had recently managed to scavenge from a dumpster. After starting a quick delivery system in town, the bicycle had certainly come in handy, especially after he'd managed to fix a makeshift cargo hold and proper binding to secure tall stacks of pretty much anything anyone wanted delivered. Moving faster down the streets now that the cargo hold was temporarily empty, Bolin sped down the road, moving to his next destination.

Today was a surprisingly busy day. Off the top of his head, Bolin remembered that he had at least six more deliveries to make, most of them heavy items which meant he could pick up more tips along the way if he skipped lunch and hustled.

One thing that dampened the prospect of a good day's earnings though was the look on Mako's face that very morning. Over a meager breakfast of egg and green beans, Bolin's older brother had said very little, brooding for longer periods than was strictly necessary during the short time they had been allowed by the debt collectors. As Bolin pedaled on, he pushed the mental image of his brother away, figuring that if he completed today's job early, he would pay a visit to the print shop Mako was working at.

Feeling lighter already, the earthbender cycled onward down the street, the wind whistling past his ear as he went.

* * *

><p>It was sharp. Mako held the blade of the letter opener up to the sunlight, admiring the fine edge. He was standing alone at the bank of the river, the place he had once stood after a childhood fight, the very place he had chosen to tell his brother the news that their father was likely dead.<p>

_His father…_

Vicious anger pulsed through his heart, forcing him to breathe deeper in order to calm himself.

'You left me in this mess,' he thought vehemently, gripping the handle tighter. 'You left me to take care of a broken family. You left me with these amber eyes. You left me to watch a friend die.'

It was a sickening mantra that spun in his mind over and over like a catchy tune. The summer heat was making the collar of his vest stick to his neck but Mako refused to fold them down. He knew that the scars were barely visible anymore yet he could not stand the sight of his exposed neck anymore. Right now, he couldn't even properly look into the river because he hated his reflection; hated the man he was reminded of most when he saw his own face.

"I hate this," he whispered to himself, looking down at the sharp blade.

He had filched it from Mr. Noh's office, knowing the aged man would not notice if one of several other letter openers went missing. The old man trusted Mako as he had trusted Mako's father when he'd been around. At that moment, Mako resented Mr. Noh's trust as it added another similarity between father and son.

Mako gazed at the flowing river, the dark earth visible beneath the clear water. He was careful not to get too close in case his reflection might show but suddenly, as he watched the water's unobstructed progress, he felt tears fill his eyes. As quickly as the raw rage had overtaken him, it evaporated, leaving him deflated like a crushed paper lantern, its inner light extinguished with nothing left but sorrow.

"I hate this," he repeated, all trace of anger gone. The voice that spoke was a dejected one, devoid of hope or light.

He thought back to the past few days. Slowly, like a spotted reel showing black-and-white film, he saw himself hugging little Min goodbye; bumping fists with Mireu as he left with Huaming; his mother crying alone in the kitchen at night, a pile of bank statements in front of her; Bolin fixing up a broken down bicycle to make a bit more money, not even realizing that his hands were bleeding from mishandling the parts; Iriah's grave with the wilted remains of white flowers; and then - skipping several years - his father saying goodbye, his father _abandoning_ them.

Then came that morning's meeting with the officer, the news that the police were dropping the case. Mako had been expecting it deep down, knew it was a waste of manpower to go looking for someone who'd fled fast in the dead of night. But he couldn't keep his temper in check and he absolutely loathed how the murderer had gotten away.

'But Iriah's a murderer, too,' a small voice whispered. 'Maybe this is karma.'

"No," he said to himself, trying to shake the persistent voice at the back of his mind. "She wasn't a murderer. She was trying to save me. If I didn't have amber eyes she'd – I wouldn't –"

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, his entire body convulsing with silent sobs of despair. A tidal wave of emotions crashed at his inner walls; guilt, regret, and the increasing feeling of abandonment. There was no one in the world to help him now, he thought, now kneeling at the river's bank. No one to guide him, to console him, to tell him it was okay.

'You killed her,' whispered the voice again. 'You're a danger, Mako. You always will be. This wasn't the first time and it won't be your last. Think about your family. What might happen to them because of you?'

Hands shaking so hard he could barely control them, Mako raised the letter opener high, angling the tip towards his chest. The sunlight glinted, reflecting off the sharp blade.

'It's for the best…' the voice whispered. 'Be brave…'

As Mako let out an inhuman roar, the knife plunged downward at a near-vertical angle. From the nearby trees, the birds fled, flying high into the endless sky, singing to the radiant sun.

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><p>Gasp! Cliffhanger *dundundun*<p> 


	21. Shadow Sneak

a/n: According to Korra Nation, Legend of Korra is going to premiere on the 14th of April, 2012. Avatar nerds, rejoice! Oh, and enjoy this chapter :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: Shadow Sneak<strong>

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><p>For the past few days, Shadow had been engaged in an activity he'd abandoned since a year previously, an activity in which he was nonetheless proficient. The skills required for the activity were ones he had picked up at an early age while performing in the circus and working backstage during magic acts. In no particular order, they consisted of stealth, flexibility and patience.<p>

At the moment, Shadow was growing thin on the last particular skill which he had slowly started losing after the first five minutes of waiting. Whatever he'd been capable of doing a year ago, he had clearly lost some of his stuff. Boredom slowly crept into his brain and he became more and more aware of what he could be doing instead of _this_. Some called it spying; others called it a tedious waiting game. Shadow full-heartedly agreed with the latter.

Of course, even as he was wondering if his circus staff were properly packing up for departure the following morning, stealth was still going strong, his undiminishing boredom not having contributed to restless leg syndrome as sometimes happened on longer stakeouts. Presently, his body was well hidden among the prickly boughs of a pine tree. Between the minty-scented needles, he had a clear view of a very tall teenager below who had his back turned to Shadow.

The teenager, for whatever reason, had taken it upon himself to contemplate the river flowing idly in front of him for the past half hour or so. Shadow couldn't exactly tell how much time had elapsed since he had quietly positioned himself in the pine tree because he – like an idiot – had left his pocket watch back in his caravan and, at any rate, he didn't want to risk being heard even if he'd brought it. Instead, he tried to gauge time by how low the sun was sinking which was virtually pointless as the sun seemed to have stopped moving, no doubt mocking his painful monotony.

And so he waited. And waited. After what felt like another good thirty minutes, the teenager was still standing immobile over the river. At the beginning of the stakeout, Shadow had wondered whether the boy was waiting for someone or perhaps something. But the teenager, much like Shadow, never appeared to consult the time or even to look around. For a while Shadow debated whether the boy was trying to catch fish but again there was no sign of anticipation, a net or even a stick in hand. At one point, Shadow could've sworn the boy held a mirror – something shiny that reflected the sunlight – up to the sky but whatever it had been had disappeared out sight as quickly as it had appeared.

After that, the stakeout continued without much change, dragging on to the point Shadow thought he heard the boy talking to someone. However, every time he looked down, there was no one else in sight. Clearly the tedium was playing mind tricks on Shadow. He tried not to doze off even though it was a fairly warm day. The birds were twittering a few branches above him, a tuneless song that was nevertheless catchy in weird way.

Shadow let his mind wonder for a bit, scanning the blue patches of sky visible above him. It was a clear, cloudless sky up above, one he had shared with a friend in what felt like another lifetime. Back then, the two had shared a foolish dream, a dream that was soon crushed like an ember beneath a mountain of pitch-black coal.

Quite abruptly, the bird song changed, the notes sounding strangely off-key. Shadow came out of his momentary reverie and looked back down. The boy was kneeling by the river, still staring at the water, his head slightly bowed. Goodness gracious, thought Shadow, did the kid have nothing better to do?

Suddenly, the teenager raised his clasped hands slowly above his head. Curious, Shadow leaned forward ever so slightly, the better to see what was going on. The object he was holding was the same reflective thing he'd help up earlier but now, in a swift blow of realization and acute panic, Shadow realized that it wasn't a mirror at all.

"No!" Shadow cried aloud, nearly toppling headfirst from the tree.

Shadow hastily jumped down, landing hard and nearly breaking his left ankle in the process. Without waiting to examine the pins-and-needles pain shooting up his leg, Shadow sprinted without breath to spare, his eyes trained on the back of the boy who currently had a sharp blade clutched in both hands. As time seemed to slow to a standstill, Shadow watched in sickening terror, as the glinting blade descended upon its owner, an animal-like cry filling the surrounding air.

* * *

><p>The sky was darkening as Bolin finished his final delivery. Feeling rather proud, Bolin restrained himself from counting his hard-earned cash in front of his last customer. Overall, the day's earnings were better than expected. Including tips and several last-minute premiums, the money pouch strapped to Bolin's waist felt heavier than it'd ever been. Perhaps, he thought, things were finally turning out for the better.<p>

Although Bolin had planned to check on Mako much earlier that day, his busy schedule had prevented him from doing so. Mako was no doubt still manning the desk at Mr. Noh's print shop even though the place hardly received half a dozen orders in a single day. As Bolin turned a street corner and headed down the marketplace with its food stalls now packed with evening shoppers, he decided a night on the town was in order, the least he could do to cheer his brother up.

The door of the print shop creaked open with a familiarity and Bolin entered to find Mr. Noh dozing off in Mako's usual place, his reading glasses perched on his nose, a sheaf of unchecked papers clutched loosely in his knotted hands.

Gently placing the bicycle up against the wall of the cramped space (he couldn't leave it outside lest someone steal it), Bolin scanned the tiny workspace, half-expecting his brother to pop up behind the stuttering print machine with a screwdriver in hand and oily ink smudging his face. Unfortunately, the shop was clearly empty apart from Mr. Noh and himself, something that in itself wasn't unusual as Mako sometimes ran errands for the old man. Still, it did strike Bolin as odd that anything might come up this late in the day when the print shop usually had so few customers.

"Mr. Noh? It's me, Bolin."

Mr. Noh woke with a start like an exam student who had been caught sleeping during study hall with a book propped up in front of him. Coughing rather wildly as though to cover his momentary surprise, the old man turned to face Bolin who stood there, slightly amused.

"Eh? What's this we have here?" Mr. Noh asked, removing his reading glasses and massaging his eyes with one hand.

"It's me, sir," repeated Bolin. "Mako's younger brother."

"Is that right?" said Mr. Noh, fixing his usual spectacles back on. "Is Mako feeling better?"

"Sorry, sir?" said Bolin, certain he had misheard.

"Well, I can't say I was _really_ surprised. He has been working himself very hard in the last few weeks. And after that dreadful incident I was worried he might not be up to full-time work –"

"I'm sorry, sir," Bolin interrupted as the old man rambled on, "but where's Mako? Did something happen or –"

" – it's just as I say, Bolin, he asked for the day off. Quite suddenly too, I didn't even notice anything wrong until he up and asked me if he could leave. Looked rather troubled too."

There was definitely something wrong about that. Bolin racked his brains for any memory of Mako looking less than healthy that morning. They had both eaten at the table, a rather piteous meal of cold dumplings, but if Mako had exhibited any outward signs of physical illness, Bolin was completely in the dark.

"But where did he go?" asked Bolin, feeling rather uneasy now.

"Well, he said he was going home to take a rest. Said he'd come back if he felt up to it but he hasn't," said Mr. Noh, clearly confused at Bolin's expression. "I wouldn't be too worried, son, it didn't seem to be anything life-threatening by any means. Perhaps a slight headache? But he did seem rather strange, that I remember clearly."

"Like- like he was worried about something?"

Mr. Noh nodded. "Excessively so."

In what felt like hazy dream, Bolin bid the old man goodbye, retrieved his bike and left the print shop. The street outside which minutes ago had felt comfortable and familiar now felt unyielding, daunting and nightmarish. A suffocating fear was pressing over Bolin now who walked like a ghost through the crowd, his bike at his side.

Throughout the entire day, something had nagged at the back of his mind, something Bolin had resolutely ignored while focusing on his job. Though he'd failed to pint-point its source, he now realized that it had been Mako all along. Mako's mood swings signals, which days ago Bolin had been so sensitive to, had suddenly dulled and blurred. Like a broken music from a badly tuned radio, the emotions had come and go without a distinctive pattern. Bolin had felt something – something that had worried him – but he'd decided to ignore it. Like a fool who entrusted his house to a thief, Bolin had decided to disregard his instincts, believing Mako would be all right for the day. But he was wrong; dead wrong.

"Where are you, Mako?" said Bolin aloud, mounting his bicycle and pedaling aimlessly out of the marketplace, down the street and out onto the main road that connected Shin Ren and Toh Sa.

He tried to remember the exact feelings he'd felt through the day, careful to separate them from his own emotions. What had his older brother felt? Fear, sadness, anger. Because Mako seemed to constantly fluctuate between the three emotions as of late, Bolin had thought it almost natural, an ordinary day for his brother _after the incident_. But there had been something else too. Hatred and regret. And then, as quickly as they'd come, those feelings had been replaced with something completely new. What was it? Despair? Disgust?

No. It had been worse than that – so much worse than anything else because Bolin finally understood the bare bones of what Mako was really thinking.

Resignation. Acceptance. Surrender.

"Mako, please…." Bolin whispered, trying to calm himself though his insides were reeling. "Please…"

Bolin didn't head back home. Mako wouldn't go back to the house to carry out what he was about to do. That place was no longer a home to him, stripped of nearly every family he had and a constant reminder of their entrapment in life. There was only one place Bolin knew of that his brother would seek out at the last minute whether it was just to think or hide from what seemed like a distrustful world. His own secret haven.

Right outside the edge of the woods, Bolin abandoned his bike, no longer caring what became of it. He plowed into the gloomy thicket of trees, kicking off his shoes as he went and allowing his seismic sense to guide him. As he drew nearer and nearer to the river, Bolin closed his eyes, searching blindly, desperately for Mako, his brother.

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><p>Thanks for reading~!^^ If you haven't already seen the official Korra site, go check out the character bios for Mako and Bolin :)<p> 


	22. The Odd Friends

a/n: Okay, I've been fangirling all over the place since the Legend of Korra online premiere but I'm going to refrain from doing that here out of respect for my readers. I know some of you are waiting until the official TV release (April 14th, 2012) so I won't spoil anything for you. Anyways, enjoy the chapter :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One: The Odd Friends <strong>

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><p><em>Three Years Ago<em>

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><p>A man wearing a black coat hurried along the empty streets, passing swiftly underneath the bare-bulb street lamps like an alley cat, quick and wary. This particular street reeked of sewer water and garbage, most of the brick walls tarnished with layer upon layer of old peeling posters and graffiti. The man turned a corner, not even pausing to examine a particularly large poster in relatively fine condition which depicted the enlarged face of a white mask with a large red circle painted on the forehead. The letters running along the left-hand side read "Equality".<p>

After several more minutes, the man arrived at an old brick building with boarded up windows. The door itself bore signs of vandalism, a sizeable chunk of wood missing from the place where the door-knocker would have been. The man knocked on the door and waited.

Two minutes passed before the door creaked open slightly, the hallway beyond completely dark. The man didn't hesitate to slip inside and made sure to shut the door behind him. Inside, he was all alone, no sign of whoever had let him in. Unperturbed, the man continued his way down the hall with no light to guide him.

At the end of the hall, there was niche in the floorboards one could pry lose to reveal a secret door leading to the basement where another door awaited. This door, unlike the previous one, was made of metal and had no handle. The trick was to slide the door to the side using the grooves hidden along the edges. Once inside, the door slid back to its original place, awaiting the next visitor.

The man stood in a spacious room filled with perhaps fifty people, all of them facing the other side of the room. He blinked slowly until his eyes adjusted to the glare of lights coming from the center stage. Electricity had become commonplace in Republic City but the power grid was so outdated in this part of the neighborhood that a separate electrical generator had been brought in. It sat humming in a corner, a silent witness to these secretive meetings.

He joined the throng of people, mostly men, some looking nervous, but all gazing fixedly at a raised podium on which a masked figure was standing. This figure was in the middle of delivering a speech, his tone confident and rallying.

"…for far too long, we non-benders have been treated like second-class citizens by the bending community," the masked figure was saying and several people cried out in agreement. "We will not tolerate such unfairness, such injustice!" Again, there was a collective mutter of agreement, some nodding sagely, others shaking their fists in indignation.

Roughly half an hour had passed when, through the noisy cheers and cries of the audience, the arrival of a second late-comer went mostly unnoticed. The man standing in the back of the crowd, however, sensed the late-comer's approach before he even spoke.

"Can you believe these people?" whispered a low voice behind the man, barely audible in racket of the crowd.

The man did not turn around, did not even acknowledge he had heard anything until, under the cover of a particularly loud chanting of "Amon! Amon!" he muttered in an undertone, "Largest rally we've ever seen, isn't it, Tal Hae?"

Tal Hae chuckled as the cheering died down and the masked man, Amon, continued his impassioned speech. All were silent as they listened closely, drinking the phrases that repeatedly contained words like "equality", "justice", and "revolution".

Amid another deafening round of applause, cheers and chanting, Tal Hae seized the opportunity to speak again, making sure to keep his amber eyes trained on Amon.

"So, Shadow, what have I missed?" asked Tal Hae, barely moving his lips.

The man named Shadow considered this for a second and had to refrain from shrugging as he replied, "Not much. Amon's speeches are normally all the same, aren't they? He hasn't mentioned anything new."

"Seems a bit crazy to have such a secretive meeting with this many people just for a pep talk," mused Tal Hae as several people in front of them started pumping fists into the air. "Perhaps this is all he is: _talk_."

Shadow's face was inscrutable as he mimed enthusiastic clapping along with the others. Finally, he replied, "Don't get your hopes up. You know how dangerous he is."

There was a long stretch of silence from Tal Hae as the familiar chanting started up again. The crowd was one voice as it called out, punching the air with every repetition of their leader's name. Shadow soon found himself chanting along with them, mimicking their frenzied adoration of the mysterious masked man. It wouldn't have raised too much suspicion just to stand quietly in the back but the enthusiastic atmosphere of Amon's followers was overwhelming, almost contagious.

For the first time, Shadow wondered if he was really just pretending, or if this was really how everyone else started out: a half-hearted bystander who then gradually turned into a complete Equalist zealot. Perhaps, he thought, there really was no difference either way.

* * *

><p>Although Shadow trusted Tal Hae with his life, the two friends never met in the outside world. When they weren't conversing front-to-back during an Equalist rally, the men led two completely separate lives where the other's existence was momentarily set aside, forgotten while they went about their daily lives, socializing with their family and friends, never once mentioning the other's existence. This was something they had agreed upon during their first rally together, back when Shadow was unsure of where his loyalties lay. For Tal Hae, it would have been a no-brainer as he was a pro-bender in real life, but for Shadow it could easily have gone either way if had not been for Tal Hae.<p>

"Now that," Tal Hae had said during their first ever (Shadow's second) rally together, staring up at Amon, "is what I call a lunatic."

Before those words they had been strangers, two completely unrelated people who happened to be standing in the same proximity at the same time. Hearing those words, which pretty much summed up Shadow's small yet nagging suspicions about Amon, they immediately struck up an unusual yet unbreakable friendship. Together, they planned to stop the Equalists revolution before it got out of hand. Admittedly, it was two against often-times dozens of followers but it was a new era, a time to stand up for what you believed in.

Although Tal Hae and Shadow were against Amon, both understood the extent of his cruelty better than others. What might have been passed off as a freak accident or mysterious disappearance by most people could be usually traced back to the Equalists by those who knew the signs. It took only two or three rallies for Shadow to start picking up allusions in Amon's speeches of recent crimes that had occurred in odd circumstances. Amon was careful never to confess outright but there was no doubt in Shadow's mind that the Equalists were behind the "accidents". Sometimes Shadow and Tal Hae covertly attempted to communicate Amon's involvement in such crimes to the police but it was tricky. The Equalists were adept at covering their tracks and never hesitated to cut off a loose end whether or not it was one of their own people. Such was the brutality of the Equalists and, therefore, the necessity for discretion between allies.

Despite the fact that the two men hardly ever looked at each other when they did meet, it didn't take long for Shadow to figure out Tal Hae's true identity. Tal Hae, of course, was a codename as was the name "Shadow". Even so, Shadow continued to call his friend Tal Hae in his mind, mentally noting his real identity in the brief margins. It didn't matter that their backgrounds were so different; that Tal Hae was actually a well-known pro-bending captain with a wife and daughter whereas Shadow was an orphan and worked at a circus. The important thing was their friendship and their mutual goals to bring down the revolution.

Neither could have predicted the tragedy that was to follow.

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>Cold and shivering, Mako came to, blinking wearily in the half-dark. Night had just fallen, the bright moon submerging the surroundings in its lunar light. He was kneeling in the shade of an oak, perhaps a few feet from where he last remembered standing, not too far from the river's edge. For some reason, his clothes, hair and shoes were damp, not quite dripping wet but still uncomfortable against his skin.<p>

Mako tried to get up but failed. It was a few moments before he realized what was holding him down was not merely fatigue but a coil of thin rope tying wrists and ankles to the tree behind him.

"Finally awake, Mako?" whispered an eerily calm voice from just behind him.

Mako tried to crane his neck around to see who was talking but it was useless. Strugglingto loosen the bonds, he was about to shout out for help when he heard the figure stepping out and into the spotlight of the moon.

"Shadow?" breathed Mako incredulously, squinting at the figure standing feet from him.

It was indeed Shadow though it was hard to tell without the signature white makeup and black diamond drawn over the eyelid. The hard features of the ringmaster were still visible in the moonlight, however, and the suit he was wearing were evidently one of his less ridiculous circus costumes although not lacking the frilly cuffs.

"What… what're you doing here? What's going on?" asked Mako, staring up at the ringmaster in surprise.

"I think the real question," said Shadow, his black eyes glinting, "is why you're here, Mako. Care to explain?"

Mako was silent for a minute. The honest truth was, he was having trouble remembering how exactly he had ended up tied to a tree in the middle of the night with no less a person than Shadow as his only company. He seemed to have developed a headache out of nowhere, and he could feel a bump of unknown origins forming on the back of his head.

"In interest of saving time," continued Shadow without waiting for a reply, "I'll answer that one myself." He cleared his throat theatrically and said, "You failed."

The words sounded almost comical the way they were pronounced so off-handedly like it was meant as a joke, a minor jest. But a few seconds later, something in Mako's brain clicked, the gears slowly grinding back into motion, speeding up with every second. And then he remembered. _Everything._

"I… I don't know what you're talking about," he said evasively, dropping his gaze to his feet.

"Don't you? Oh, you're right!" exclaimed Shadow, slapping a palm to his forehead, "Then it must've been some other fellow I wrestled into the river – here!" A sharp object was thrust at a spot inches from Mako's feet, the point sticking into the soft soil.

Mako couldn't speak. He recognized the letter opener he had stolen from Mr. Noh. The horrific realization of what he had attempted sent shockwaves up his spine.

After an interval about half a minute which seemed to stretch on for quite some time for Mako, Shadow spoke up. "I'll say this again, Mako," he said quietly while the teenager hung his head. "You _failed_." The last word was barely a whisper and yet had a tangible hardness to it.

Mako was suddenly freezing to his core yet it had nothing to do with his damp clothes or the subtle night breeze that gently stroked the nearby bushes. The pit of his stomach ached with a sharp stabbing feeling but this too was not a physical sensation. Turbulent emotions of fear and anger escaped the boundaries of his mind and nestled in every part of his body like a spreading tumor, causing him to imagine shooting pain all over.

Evidently unaware of this, Shadow continued baldly, "The sad thing is that you don't even know why you did it." He paused slightly, leaning a little to on his right leg. "Tell me, Mako, why did you?"

When no answer came, the ringmaster sighed dramatically, pacing back and forth in front of the tied-up teenager.

"I understand what you're going through," said Shadow patiently. "And I can help –"

"You don't know anything about me," snarled Mako, struggling against his bonds. "Untie me!"

Shadow contemplated this, watching the teenager's angry face with an expression of polite interest. It was only when Mako had tired himself out that the ringmaster continued.

"I know everything about you, Mako," said Shadow plainly. "I know how you feel responsible for your family's financial problems –"

"Stop," interjected Mako.

"I know you feel hopeless about your future–"

"– I said stop!"

"I know you secretly _hate_ your father for leaving you in order to pursue his own dreams. I know –"

"SHUT UP!"

The sheer force and rage that accompanied this outburst caused several birds to take off in fright. As Mako sat there, seething with fury, Shadow again observed him, much like a butcher observed a piglet in a cage before slaughtering it.

And then, when it seemed that the two would stare at each other until sunrise, Shadow asked one last question, the final blow.

"Do you really blame yourself for Iriah's death?"

The question itself wasn't a real shock even if it was coming from a stranger. After all, hadn't Mako asked himself the very same question over a hundred times already? But for a while, he gave no answer; there was only silence save the sudden rustling of the forest beside them, almost like a small animal scurrying in fright.

All the fight leaving his body, Mako replied in a defeated yet resolute tone, "Yes, I do."

He kept his head bent low, chin to his damp shirt. Somehow he was refraining from shedding tears, lest this torture become any more humiliating. It was a while before he realized that Shadow had approached him and not until the ringmaster was kneeling, their eyes level, did Mako looked up, taken aback at the sudden proximity.

Up close, Shadow looked older by several years. His hair appeared much grayer in places, the lines of his face more pronounced without the white makeup. In a steady, solemn voice, Shadow said, "No, it wasn't your fault."

Mako didn't answer, half-expecting some follow-up sarcasm which never came. Strangely, the older man's dark eyes, deep and bottomless in the half-light of the moon, felt somehow soothing, forgiving and patient.

"How do you know?" asked Mako quietly.

"Because," said Shadow, his eyes filled with sadness, "if there's anyone to blame for what happened... that person… is me."

* * *

><p>an: For the record, I'm totally in love with the series so far :D If you missed the release, the episodes are available online so go watch episodes 1 and 2 of Legend of Korra. You won't regret it!


	23. Silver Lining

a/n: Yes! Exams ended today and I finished this last chapter! Thank you everybody who even read a sentence of this fanfic: you guys rock!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two: Silver Lining<strong>

* * *

><p>Fearing the worst wasn't Bolin's style. Mako often scolded him for being so optimistic but that was the only way Bolin knew how to live, to survive. While growing up in a tiny Earth Kingdom town was no easier for him than for his older brother, Bolin could always draw a silver lining from his heart whether a cloud existed or not. He had never failed at keeping a positive outlook – until now.<p>

As he crashed through the woods, stumbling over fallen tree branches along the way, Bolin felt his resolve fading fast. He was no longer hopeful that Mako was still breathing, even though he kept up an unceasing mental mantra of "he's okay… he's okay… he's okay". To make matters worse, his seismic sense was compromised after banging his foot against a fallen log. Now his vision was turning up blurry with every throb of his right toe.

The muffled noise of the woods brought back memories of when they were young, playing in the woods past supper time. Back then the two brothers had never ventured this deep to play but even as a child Bolin had known Mako's tendency to hide in the trees when he wanted to be alone. Bolin never asked why. He was afraid of knowing the answer.

After a few more minutes, Bolin sensed the trees thinning and the sandy riverbank up ahead. Though his foot was still aching, he could "see" someone standing upright by the river, the outline hazy and overlapping, almost as though more than one person were there. A wave of relief washed over as, in his eagerness, he sprinted the rest of the way; his eyes snapping open once he was clear of the trees then –

He tripped on a log he had failed to see (or sense) and went sprawling into the sand, landing a few paces away from a pair of feet. Lying flat on his stomach, Bolin groaned and lifted his head just high enough to see another pair of feet join the first.

"What the –" Bolin rolled onto his back. To his utter amazement, the faces of none other than Shadow and Mako were peering down at him, half-surprised, half-amused. It took perhaps another ten seconds before he noticed that Shadow wasn't wearing makeup. For some reason, this fact alone scared Bolin more than the ringmaster's inexplicable presence.

* * *

><p>Like his namesake, Shadow hovered near the base of a tree where, perhaps ten minutes before, he had cut Mako free from his binds after making him promise not to hurt himself. Mako had barely stood up when something had stumbled from the woods and crashed to the ground, rolling in the sand before landing flat on his stomach: Bolin.<p>

Shadow had expected the younger brother's arrival but not so in this fashion. He knew the brothers shared a close bond and that, sooner or later, Bolin would cotton onto the fact that Mako was in trouble. The arrival rather later than Shadow had predicted (several hours late in fact) but the ringmaster was rather pleased that the brothers were now in the same place, sparing him the tedious work of tracking down Bolin before having their little chat. Not that Shadow was in any hurry to reveal everything; he just knew it had to be done and soon.

Meanwhile, Shadow watched the brothers from a distance as they sat in the sand face to face, the younger one earthbending a sandpit with one hand while listening to his older brother. Mako, as Shadow had expected, was spinning a wonderfully convincing yet severely altered version of what had occurred before Bolin unceremonious entrance. He conveniently left out the part about his failed suicide attempt and being tied to a tree. Predictably, Bolin seemed satisfied by these lies, even the part about "inexplicably bumping into Shadow who wanted to tell both of them about something important". Shadow wondered how life might have turned out if he himself had been so gullible.

When the sandpit was finished and Mako had started a decent campfire using some fallen branches, Shadow approached them. Up close, Bolin seemed content that his brother was safe. Mako immediately noticed Shadow's presence and spoke up at once, no pretense.

"Are you going to tell us what happened to Iriah?" he asked bluntly. Bolin, sitting next to him, jerked his head up in alarm, looking from Mako to Shadow.

Shadow shrugged before sitting down on the sandy riverbank in front of the flickering flames of the fire pit. "Yes, I am," he said, contemplating the orange flames.

"Uh, I'm sorry," said Bolin, looking anxious, "but what do you mean 'what happened to Iriah'?"

"That thing he wanted to tell us," Mako reminded his little brother. "So let's hear it."

"Fine," said Shadow. Involuntarily, he found himself digging his fingertips into the sand, keeping his hand clutched in a claw-like grasp. "I suppose we should start at the very beginning."

The brothers were silent and only the gentle river murmured as Shadow began.

"Three few years ago, I attended an Equalist rally in the Republic City. This was back when they were a little known protest group. I met a man there. Like me, he eventually went by a codename: Tal Hae. That man was Iriah's father."

Bolin gaped, his eyes wide. Beside him, Mako was still and quiet.

"We struck up a friendship, he and I," Shadow continued. "We had so very little in common but one thing we shared was a single goal: to bring down the Equalists. You see, even back then the Equalists were dangerous; they were silent in their endeavors, always covering their tracks whatever crimes they committed. Tal Hae and I agreed that we should put a stop to it. We formed our own secret society: the Counter Revolution.

"We did okay for a while, mostly attending the rallies and diverting planned crimes when we could. A couple others joined the Counter Revolution as well and things seemed to go according to plan." Shadow grimaced. "That is, until we were betrayed."

Bolin gulped; his eyes fearful. Mako asked, "Who was it?"

"We never did figure that out," said Shadow bitterly. "We all went by nicknames and our real identities were kept a secret. But the problem was that Tal Hae had become too famous by then as a probending champ. He even went as far to disguise himself but this guy – he was new – ratted him out to the Equalists. The traitor fled immediately before I'd had enough time to figure out who he really was. So without knowing the extent of the damage he'd caused, I started a warning chain. Basically, I could contact only one person, that person contacts another and so on. Once it started, our Counter Revolution was practically dead – whole families went into hiding because of it. Anyas, we each only knew one person's phone number but I also knew Tal Hae's. That night, his wife answered; said that he wasn't home yet, still at the probending arena. So I went to check and when I got there…"

An ugly darkness seemed to pass over Shadow's face, his hands curling into white fists. Through gritted teeth he managed four words: "it was too late."

* * *

><p><em>One Year Ago<em>

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><p>The stench of dirty, stagnant water rose up in coils of steam from the sewers; no doubt the plumbers were on strike again. Ignoring this, Shadow hurried down the street, silent as a night owl and keeping to the walls. In a garbage-strewn alleyway, he scanned the night gloom for any sounds of –<p>

He stopped.

"Tal Hae?" whispered Shadow, trying to keep calm. He glanced behind him. Surely he'd be dead by now if they were still here? Silently, he approached the dark mass slumped sideways at the base of a streetlamp, its bulb broken and casting not a single spark. "It's me –"

He felt rather than saw it; the protruding handle of a regular kitchen knife, the blade impossibly deep. Heart hammering, he knelt beside the body, tearing off his gloves with his teeth before grabbing the cold wrist. No pulse.

A gross, unearthly wail nearly escaped Shadow's lips. He clamped a hand over his mouth, almost doubling over as first his torso than his entire body began to convulse with spasmodic bursts of grief. With one hand, he managed to turn the body around, fearing the worst yet unrelieved when he saw that the face had been left unscathed, unblemished. But it was the expression that did it. Shadow shook violently, his left hand suppressing the gasping sobs. Tal Hae's face was a white sheet, blank except for an expression of pathetic resignation.

Spasms of shock and anguish tore at Shadow's chest, his lungs heaving with the effort of sucking in air without making a sound. Shadow gently pulled the body into his arms even though they were shaking uncontrollably. Trying to steady his violent shivers, he bit down on his lip and drew blood. Hot tears seared down his cheeks, mixing with the blood. He could taste the salty copper.

With one arm, Shadow cradled Tal Hae's head, rocking back and forth yet unwilling to let his pain out in guttural waves. He wasn't afraid of Equalists then; he was just afraid he would never stop. He was also afraid that someone might find them, separate them. Rocking back and forth with one hand still blocking his mouth, Shadow wondered what it would be like to just stay there, cradling his dead friend, his companion, forever brothers.

* * *

><p>The crack of dawn greeted the early risers of Republic City. Commuters began to hustle to train stations before the sun was completely up. A 13-year-old newspaper boy donned his patched hat, weaving between the teeming people, starting his usual morning rounds. A few minutes later, he turned into an alleyway and promptly crashed his bicycle into something lying spread-eagled on the ground.<p>

By then, Shadow was long gone and was not around to hear the boy scream.

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>Even though the brothers already knew about Iriah's father, they couldn't help but feel sick. It was also surprising to find that this man – however friendly he'd been with Tal hae – was more torn over the events of that night than Iriah had been. In comparison, the way she'd recounted the story had been stoic and detached.<p>

"I couldn't report it to the police. See, we'd found out through the years that some of them were corrupt. If his body wasn't found in the right place and the Equalists noticed, it was the end for me. I ran away that night. Not from Republic City, but the last three years of my life."

"Why didn't you say anything to Iriah and her mother?" asked Mako indignantly. "They could've been targeted!"

Shadow shook his head. "The Equalists don't always kill people but when they do, they make sure the family suffers by letting them live with the loss. The grieving families set a good example of what happens to anyone working against the Revolution." He sighed, unclenching his fists and staring into his palms, not really seeing them. "But more than that, I was a coward. I was afraid to reveal that I was partly responsible. If I hadn't started the Counter Revolution, he'd still be alive and well. So I tried to forget it all. I didn't know what Iriah was going to do."

"She went after the killer," said Bolin, more to himself than Shadow but the ringmaster was nodding distractedly.

"I could've prevented everything and yet, like a fool, I was late again. By the time I pulled myself together, her mother had already passed away from shock. Iriah was in a state herself, almost insane with guilt. She couldn't have known what it was like to take another's life and it nearly destroyed her. She'd lost everything: her father, her mother, her innocence. All of it; gone.

"But there were more pressing matters," said Shadow. "I knew that the Equalists were coming even if the police were convinced it was an accident. Republic City was no longer safe for her. So I did what I could: I started a traveling circus and started recruiting performers. It wasn't difficult to convince Iriah: she was willing to run away from her past, just as I'd done."

"You started a traveling circus just to hide Iriah?" asked Bolin incredulously.

Shadow nodded. "Iriah was completely closed off at first: wouldn't eat, talk or do anything. I didn't dare reveal that I'd known her father but over time, I found one thing that could get her to open up: magic tricks."

This time, it was Mako's turn to be incredulous. "Magic tricks?" he echoed.

"Not just ordinary magic tricks: firebending illusions," Shadow explained. "Like her father, she was a gifted firebender. She spent hours just practicing but every time I taught her a new trick, she would open up little by little. After a few months, she was ready for more advanced magic acts. That was when I made my second mistake."

The campfire popped and crackled. Bolin jumped but relaxed when he saw that it was just a beetle which had landed in the flames. The spitting flames were reflected in Shadow's eyes, his expression regretful.

Turning to Mako Shadow said, "I've already told you that it wasn't your fault, Mako. You didn't kill Iriah." He paused. "But Yongzheng didn't do it either." Both Bolin and Mako looked astounded. Shadow continued, "You two don't know it but I was actually the last person to see Iriah alive. She was badly burned when they brought her to the hospital but still breathing, just barely. The minute I saw her injuries, I knew what she'd done.

"Her injuries weren't the result of a combat. They were the result of an incredibly dangerous firebending illusion act which I assume she performed to drive her opponent away."

"That's insane!" exclaimed Bolin. "How are you so sure of this?"

"Because I was the one who taught it to her," admitted Shadow with the air of a man determined to confess all his sins. "Phoenix Mirage. The ultimate firebending illusion. I had my doubts when Iriah first asked me to teach her, but she refused to back down. She wanted to learn it that badly."

"Why? If it was so dangerous, why learn it?" asked Bolin.

"Phoenix Mirage is a two-part act. In the first part, the magician wraps himself in cloth and sets it on fire. Before the magician is roasted alive, he or she performs a body swap with a stage dummy. In the second part, the embers of the burning remains are used to create a life-like model of a phoenix. Of course, a phoenix isn't the_ only_ thing you can make."

Bolin and Mako instinctively looked at each other. The campfire crackled again and, through the orange light cast by the flames, the brothers understood.

"She wanted to see…" began Bolin.

"…her father," Mako finished.

"You see why I was a fool?" said Shadow ruefully. "Even after all the mistakes I'd made, I was still blind. I knew why she wanted to learn it – I even envied her ability to do so – but I still relented. What I should've realized was the disservice I was presenting to Iriah. Instead of encouraging her to move on, I allowed her the means to cling to a treasured yet terrible memory."

At the words 'terrible memory', something clicked in Mako's brain. Without warning, he understood Iriah's actions in the alleyway.

"Iriah… she wasn't trying to save me," said Mako slowly. "Not really… she was trying to save... her father."

Bolin gaped. "You mean… after all that time, she –"

" – she couldn't forget it," said Shadow. "The grief and pain, the guilt, she never let any of it go. And in the end, even when she knew it was a different person who was in danger, she put her life on the line in hopes of assuaging her own guilt. If she could travel back in time, she would've done the same for her father. To her, she alone was responsible for his death." Shadow sighed, a long drawn out breath of regret. "I never did tell her about the Counter Revolution but considering everything, I somehow doubt it would've mattered. When I failed to prevent her revenge, I failed to save her. And that's what really happened."

For a long while, the three of them were silent; the only sounds being the occasional crackle of the campfire and the chirping of crickets. Mako felt both relieved and saddened as if his body couldn't decide whether to be ill or not. He imagined Iriah, somewhere warm and safe with her father. Mako bowed his head and let a single tear slide down his cheek, smiling tremulously.

Bolin was earthbending the surrounding sand in circles, thinking about his own father. He wondered how their mother was doing and if Min and Mireu were still sound asleep. And then his wandering mind turned to Mako who was right next to him. It was a strange feeling to know that a few hours ago, he'd been scared to find his brother dead and now they were sitting together under the stars together, contemplating life without calling it that.

As for Shadow, he felt the unexpected urge to smile, to laugh, to cry. His secret was finally out to the two people he'd never dreamed of sharing it with. He thought of Tal Hae and Iriah, and how they were both as far and distant as the twinkling stars above; how he, Shadow, was alone.

* * *

><p>As the sun bled crimson over the horizon, the campfire sizzled and died out, Mako having dozed off a few hours before. Bolin's head was lolling to the side, his eyelids in a constant flutter between sleep and wake.<p>

And where was Shadow? He'd left shortly after Bolin fell asleep but not before leaving a large paper popcorn bag with the circus logo on it. The neck was twisted and beside it lay a sealed envelope.

When Mako stirred after first light, he opened the popcorn bag to find – not popcorn – but money. They weren't old coins either: Republic City currency printed with Avatar Aang's face on one side; real yuans. By the time Bolin woke up, Mako had finished the letter accompanying the bag of cash and he passed it to his younger brother for him to read.

Straightening the letter, Bolin read, wondering why Mako seemed so delighted to be holding a crumpled bag of popcorn that smelled nothing like butter or salt.

_Dear Brothers,_

_By the time you read this, my circus will have already departed. But even so, I couldn't leave without a last word so here it is._

_It was a pleasure meeting you both and I regret that the time has come for us to part ways. I regret your time with Iriah was so short as well. Even though I knew her mostly through our shared loss, she was a wonderful person as you must already know._

_As a departing gift, I leave you with Iriah's wages; she never spent any of it. I'm sure she would like you to put it to good use. In the envelope you will find a present from me. They are two tickets to a passage aboard a ship that leaves from a port three miles from here. It'll take you straight to Republic City harbor. The choice is entirely yours but I'm sure whatever you choose, it will be the right one. _

_Always look out for each other and your family. _

_Shadow_

* * *

><p>AN: I'm wondering if I should write a short epilogue to this. Drop me a line in your review or PM me, okay? Thanks for reading~~


	24. Epilogue

a/n: Did you guys see episode 5? Because I'm gonna pretend it never happened :P

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p>So it was that time again, thought Mako as he stood at the entrance to Toh Sa Village, his family surrounding the two brothers. He stood to the side as their mother tearfully hugged Bolin goodbye. Xiuling had taken it surprisingly well when Mako and Bolin had told her of their plan to leave for United Republic just two days ago. This was just hours after Shadow's Traveling Circus had on leaving only a bag of cash and two tickets to Republic City Harbor. Most of the cash had been spent paying off their debt and the leftover money was spent buying supplies for their journey.<p>

"You'll be careful, won't you?" asked Xiuling, patting her oldest son's cheek. Mako nodded, staring deep into his mother's green eyes which were the same shade as Bolin's and Min's. Xiuling embraced Mako who had to bow slightly so that his mother could wrap her arms around his neck.

When they broke apart, Bolin was hugging his baby sister Min and his younger brother Mireu. Min, the oblivious angel, was smiling happily as she playfully pulled on Bolin's ears as he made ridiculous faces for her enjoyment. Mireu laughed along, a tight grin adorning his face.

"You gonna miss me, bro?" Mako asked Mireu, squatting down so that their faces were level. The false pretense evaporated as Mireu's shook his head. That one gesture was enough to splinter a piece of Mako's heart. "We're going to be back soon, I promise," Mako said quietly. Behind him, Min was attempting to crawl up Mako's back.

"That's what Dad said…" whispered Mireu, his voice breaking. "I… I don't want you to leave…"

Even before the tears fell, Mako hugged Mireu to his chest. He could feel his little brother's whole body shaking as he cried. Mireu – who rarely cried – was like a two-year-old as he clung to his brother who neither said nor did anything except envelope their pain.

Bolin took notice and pulled a squirming Min from Mako's back before she could see Mireu sobbing.

"Why is mommy crying?" she asked, noticing Xiuling who was blowing her nose into a handkerchief.

"Mommy isn't crying," Bolin said hurriedly as Xiuling turned her back to them. "She's just happy because Mako and I are going on an adventure."

"Avenchur?" repeated Min, tilting her head to the side. Then after a momentary pause she asked, "Why?"

There was any number of lies that Bolin could have told which Min would have willingly accepted. He could have said that they were leaving to meet an old friend or find a long lost treasure or (Min's favorite): _it's a secret_!Instead, repeated a line from the letter Shadow had left, which was currently tucked into a notebook in Mako's rucksack.

"We're going on an adventure because," he said, bumping foreheads with his little sister who giggled, "it's our choice." It was a lame explanation that Min didn't understand but, almost as though to spare her brother's feelings, she smiled lovingly and tapped him on the nose. Taking it as a good sign, Bolin smiled back.

By that time, Mireu had calmed down and was trying to surreptitiously wipe his blotchy red face with the back of his hand. Mako took Min from Bolin and blew a raspberry in her belly button. Min squealed happily, still flailing like a trout as he set her back down on the ground.

"We'd better get going," Mako said. Both Xiuling and Bolin nodded. Mireu forced a grin, his face still puffy from the tears. Min awkwardly saluted her two older brothers by placing her hand on her forehead. She resembled someone with a headache.

"It's your choice!" she giggled, parroting Bolin's earlier answer. Despite themselves, both Mako and Bolin smiled back at their little sister, wondering when they would see her again.

As the brothers turned and walked down the road out of Toh Sa Village, Bolin glanced over his shoulder for one last look at his mother, Min and Mireu. It suddenly dawned on him that he was really leaving everything – his family, his hometown, _everything_ – behind.

"We'll be back," said Mako as if he had heard Bolin's thoughts.

Bolin looked sideways at his brother who was resolutely staring forward. "Did we… make the right choice?" Bolin asked, resisting the urge to look back a second time.

There was a slight pause before Mako opened his mouth then – changing his mind – closed it again. The question hung in the air before them as they walked on but at the same time, both knew the answer without speaking.

_The choice is entirely yours_, Shadow had said. _But whatever you choose, it will be the _right_ one._

* * *

><p>an: I know that some of you suggested a scene where the brothers first arrive in Republic City. Originally, that was my plan for this epilogue but I decided to end it like this in case I ever wanted to do a sequel starting off with their day in the big city. Love you all for hanging in there and reading until the very end :D Thank you so much!


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